To Settle a Debt
by Xxsweet-venom-kissxX
Summary: Caden had made a deal with a Snatcher. He'd give her the money she needed, and she'd work for him until he saw fit. Simple concept. But life has a way of making things complicated. Scabior/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**This was just something I had to get out of my head. It's tentative, and I'm finishing Postbellum first before I do anything else (actually I'm going to write my Art History paper first, but you know what I meant). It's going to be a bit of a different Scabior, or something. Like I said, tentative, there's a few details that probably need ironing out, of course. Leave your thoughts in a review.**

**Will be rated T for now, there's a tad bit of strong language (two words), and if I ever return to this, chances are, it'll be M.**

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><p>She knew it had been a stupid idea.<p>

She always had the notion that she was supposed to get an education, get a job, get married ,get a house, have kids, and die happy. She leapt at the opportunity, a man actually taking interest in her. Her family had a bit of money-not much, not like the Malfoy's-but enough to afford a few nice things once in a while.

The man ran off with a pretty, leggy blonde and all of her money.

Because she had not a single knut to her name, she was unable to pay the mortgage. And if she couldn't pay the mortgage, Gringotts would take back the house, kick her out, and that'd be the end of that.

Caden sighed. She watched the family step out onto the sidewalk below, beaming at the Ministry agent who had showed them the house. She refused to do what normal people do when their house is being shown, and leave for half an hour or so.

She pulled back her dark hair, tying in a messy bun. Her brown eyes found another subject to watch as she waited for them to leave.

She loved this house, though. She had loved it the minute they had stepped in. No stupid family sucking off the new Ministry's benefits was going to get her house all because of her cheating ex-husband.

She stepped into the hall, and made her way down the stairs. She remembered Sunday mornings, when the sun would stream through the large stairway and it seemed to glow. Warmth. Happiness. Love. The smell of banana pancakes and tea and always a hint of lavender.

That was gone. Her house elf had been taken by that stupid slut, leaving the house in a state of clean that was necessary, not extravagant. The floors were clean, the furniture in decent shape, the rail of the stairs free of dust. But it was gathering in the molding and the mantles and details of the chairs.

She stood on the landing, watching as the Ministry agent came inside, as always. He always wanted a word with her.

He was a thin man, Mr. Bane. Thin, tall, blonde, hair parted violently on one side. He oozed business confidence and enough cleverness to pull people in, and his sales pitches were spot-on.

Caden hated him.

"Ms. Allen, we've been through this," he began as he stood on the first floor. In any other situation, someone would have thought her being up so high and him being below resembled _Romeo and Juliet_, only there was nothing but abhorrence between them . "If you'd just step outside while I showed the clients around…"

She said nothing. There was nothing to say anymore that she hadn't already said before. She let out a harsh breath from her nose.

"You don't have the money to pay the loan off. We can't do business with someone who's broke."

"Then why don't you hit up the man who took my money?" She snapped.

"It's a much different matter. Your name is on the contract. You owe us the money. You are unable to make your payments, and as such the bank must make an effort to sell this property because we are unable to maintain it. We let you stay because you have nowhere else to go. But as soon as an offer comes in…"

"Yeah, I get it, I'm out." She sighed. "What's the minimum I'd have to give you to get off my back?"

"I'm afraid I don't…"

"The minimum amount of money it would take to get the bank off my back?"

"There's nine-thousand galleons of the loan left, with another thousand in interest and fees."

"Ten thousand galleons?" Her mind couldn't wrap around it. Such a…not a small amount, but it was less than she expected; less than she thought it was.

Surely…she hated to do it. It always sounded stupid. Taking a loan to pay off a loan, just to get a time extension on getting the payments together. It sounded counter-productive to her.

But…if she went to someone in Knockturn, got the cash, and paid off the bank, she'd just have to deal with a shady business owner who may or may not kill her.

_You always have such great plans, Cay._ She thought.

"I'll be able to get it. Give me twenty-four hours." She climbed down the stairs, grabbing her coat on the way to the door, not giving Mr. Bane another look. "Lock up for me, will you?"

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><p>A drink. She needed a drink.<p>

Leaky Caldron, always the best place to think.

She was agitated. Like a wounded animal. Twenty-four hours to get ten-thousand galleons. Shit. The fuck was she thinking?

She was staring at the glass of Firewhiskey in front of her, hadn't noticed the stranger take a seat across from her.

"You okay there, love?"

Caden jumped, blinking at the man across from her. He had spoken with a Cockney accent, and had a look of slight confusion on his face with a hint of cockiness. A smirk dared to cross his lips.

Dark hair was barely held back with the ribbon, a red streak contrasting with the rest of his hair. He had shadows under his blue eyes, along with a bit of eyeliner. He looked rugged, but in the good way. He was decent looking, she admitted.

"I'm fantastic," Sarcasm always had a way of making its way to her tongue when she decided to have a drink. "I just told someone I'd be able to get ten-thousand galleons in twenty-four hours so I can keep my house. Yep. Brilliant idea there."

The stranger made a face, eyebrows raising once and his lips moving to one side of his face for a moment. A silent agreement.

"Why did you sit here? There are several free tables." Caden gestured around to the very empty pub.

"I was gettin' a drink, and thought, 'Why let a pretty woman sit by 'erself?'"

She smiled to herself, shaking her head. "Not interested."

The strange leaned back in the chair, folding his arms behind his head. He had a red band on his jacket sleeve. Snatcher. Oh, her luck couldn't get worse, could it? He smirked as she realized what he was.

"Oh, but I think you should be. I can 'elp you. I've go' the cash you need. I pay off this person, and you work for me until I say yer debt is paid."

"Why?"

Caden wasn't thrilled with the idea. She'd owe a Snatcher money. Might as well just kill her now. They could be as bad as unsavory businessmen, if not worse. They had few morals.

"It benefits the both o' us. I need 'nother person on my team, and you need to pay a debt so you 'ave a roof ove' yer 'ead."

She sighed. It was logical, she had to admit. Or maybe it was him, being ruggedly handsome, that was drawing her in.

"Yeah. Fine." She nodded. "Can I at least have the name of the man to whom I'm soon to be indebted?"

The stranger flashed a grin, leaning over the table and resting his head on his folded hands. "Scabior. And you, pretty lady?"

"Caden Allen."

"Well, Caden, 'ow 'bout we get started, and 'ead to Gringotts before it closes?"

She nodded, her lips suddenly refusing to cooperate. Same went for her tongue. She simply followed the tall man in his plaid pants through the desolate alley.


	2. Chapter 2

**And here's the second chapter, finally. Thank you for the reviews, like always. :)**

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><p>It was strange to see the people who actually still frequented the Alley jumping out of the way as soon as they caught sight of the tall man next to her. He exuded a cocky confidence and they seemed to know he had some sort of power among the low-lives that were Snatchers. Some of them nodded to him, others simply shrank into the shadows.<p>

Some dared to give Caden a strange look. She didn't seem the kind to be caught up with _their lot_. She was just a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, five foot four at most. She was nothing special.

She felt like a child, standing next to Scabior as he conducted business with the goblin.

She didn't remember much from the First Wizarding War; she was young when it was going on, born right before the chaos began. She grew up in it, starting Hogwarts a year before Voldemort's supposed downfall. She certainly felt more than twenty-nine. Looked it too. Not that she cared.

Caden had been left to wait while Scabior had gone to his vault. She couldn't wait to see the look on that stupid Ministry agent's face.

She was forgetting of her indentured servitude to the Snatcher who was swaggering back to her, one side of his jacket clearly weighing him down more than usual. She followed him like a lost puppy, back out into the Alley.

"'nd who are you supposed to give the money to, love?" He was walking faster than before, and she had to speed-walk to catch up to him.

"Quentin Bane." She didn't miss the look of disgust on his face as the mention of the name. "I know."

A beat passed between them, more walking. Why hadn't they Apparated? Wasn't that easier?

"Why are…?"

"Pink lady knows when'ver I Apparate into the offices. If we go the old-fashioned way, she don't know. I don' wanna deal wit' 'er until you've 'anded your money to Bane."

A look of confusion passed over her face. "I could have asked a multitude of things."

"You're nearly joggin' to catch up, you're clearly not used to a lot o' walkin'. But that'll change."

They finally reached the Ministry, people parting to get out of Scabior's way. She followed close behind, taking in their expressions. Fear, anger, anxiety. The statue was something she had heard about, and her stomach dropped a bit at the sight of it. What had she gotten herself into?

"What do you know 'bout snatchin'?" Scabior asked as they got into a lift, Caden having to hop up a bit to grab a handle.

She furled her brow in thought. "You hunt people that are on the list of Undesirables and take them to the Ministry for money. They're either muggleborns, blood-traitors or runaway students."

"In other words, no' much." A frown tugged at Scabior's lips as they exited the elevator and finally reached Bane's office. "'ere. After this, we'll go see Umbridge and get you sorted."

He handed her the bag that decided her fate, that allowed her to get the Ministry off her back. Even though she wouldn't even be home to revel in having a home in the first place.

She entered after three knocks, not waiting for a voice from within. She dropped the bag on the desk, causing a loud thump. Bane looked up from his work, glanced from her to the bag on his desk, and then as the open door. Across the hall, a figure waited. Plaid pants, disheveled hair, red armband. Both men had run into each other on occasion and simply rubbed each other the wrong way. The Snatcher was deprived of manners and was nothing more than a go-fer to pick out the ones the Ministry wanted to dispose of.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Ms. Allen?" That doubtful tone. Merlin dammit, she'd made her choice.

"No. But I need you off my back. No more offers, the amount's there in full." Caden walked out of his office, leaving a struck Christopher Bane to count the money on his desk.

He wasn't a fool. He had seen what she had done. Even though the two of them didn't quite get along, Bane had been hoping she wouldn't pull a stunt like this. She was stuck in the clutches of Snatchers all to pay off a financial debt. She switched owing money to owing her life. She wouldn't get out of that easily.

She had sold her life all to get away from the Ministry, only to end up essentially working for them.

He sighed, pulled the bag towards him, and began shelling out the gold.

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><p>Umbridge's office stood in front of a large area of desks, all lined up in perfect order. Each witch (or wizard, there were mostly witches) would assemble part of a pamphlet. Caden peered at one of them, the propaganda printing reminding her of something she had seen in a Muggle history book once. <em>Muggleborns and the Dangers They Pose<em>. Uh-huh.

She stood behind Scabior as he knocked, waited for the too-sweet tone of a "come in" and stepped inside. He made a motion for Caden to come in front of him; he pushed her along, fingers at the small of her back. Caden's expression was far from fear; she took some skeptical glances around the office.

Kittens. Pink. Everything was frilly. The kittens on the plates all over the walls mewed or hissed, bows in their fur.

The woman in front of her was dressed in pink, a bow pinned in her hair, the same shade as her jacket. She smiled sweetly, the kind of smile one gives when patience is absolutely thin and they are forced to be nice and welcoming. Fake. So fake it hurt.

"Scabior, what a pleasant surprise." Caden surpressed a shiver. This woman set her teeth on edge. "Who's this?"

Umbridge's gaze fell back upon Caden, who stared back.

"She's the new recruit." Scabior rubbed his nose casually. "She's in a sort o' debt to me, and I need another person on my team."

"You clearly don't have the desperation the others do, dearie. Why are you choosing this route?"

"I was in need of a quick monetary fix. Scabior ran an offer by me, and I took it. He gave me the money I needed, and I owe him until he sees fit, ma'am." She wanted so desperately to mouth off to her, sarcasm and utter disgust on the tip of her tongue, hidden well.

Umbridge scrutinized her, took in every detail. As if wondering if she was capable of the task. Those who actually turned to snatching were not as…clean as she was. This woman was not used to being outdoors, not used to being on the road. She was misplaced. Clearly at some point a person of value. To turn to such a hostile lifestyle, she must have had no money left at all.

"The deal is between the two of you, but you do have to sign a contract, for paper-trail purposes."

Caden plastered on a small smile. "Of course."

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><p>She had signed her life away, essentially. Regret gripped her stomach, but there was no going back now. Scabior had remained silent, giving single-word responses to Umbridge, giving only the necessary details he saw fit. He had practically pushed her out of the office.<p>

By the time they had gotten out, many of the people had left. It was evening, everything truly closing down for the day. They headed back to the Atrium in silence, the lack of communication setting her on edge. She had no idea what would happen. What was expected of her.

He had taken her forearm, holding onto her as they used the fireplace to head back to the Leaky Caldron.

"Me an' the boys are stayin' 'ere for the night and then 'eadin' out in the mornin'. They're all gonna be a bit 'ungover and extremely unpleasant, so I'll tell you what. I'll come an' get you once we've gotten camp set up. You're gonna 'ave to pack anyway, I'm assumin'."

"Or buy whatever I'll need tomorrow morning." She added.

She scribbled down her address in the little book he carried on him; she saw a list of names briefly. So that was how they knew who to go after. She had realized he was tall, but there was really only about a half of a foot of a difference between them, something he saw as he watched her write.

Caden handed the small book back, as well as the pen he handed her.

"Bring a jacket and sensible shoes-trainers, preferably. I wouldn't recommend boots for runnin'."

She nodded, said good-night and began her trek home to pack and enjoy the last night in her own bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**And a last-minute weekend update before I go on a studying binge and begin stressing. Reviews are awesome and welcome, of course :)**

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><p>Caden stood in her bedroom, a room from which she had removed all but the most basic needs. It was too large, too grand for the king-sized bed with its large headboard and footboard. It made it feel like furniture in a doll-house, somehow. The walls were a golden yellow, warming the room even though it was a cold shell of its former self. A dresser sat against a wall, a large mirror with shelves on it. She had burned all of the pictures she could, save two. Her wedding picture, and one from back when her and the man she used to share a bed with were dating. A cold winter day, bundled up and smiling.<p>

She took the edge of the frame and slammed it down, the sound echoing.

Her small back-pack sat on the bed, given an undetectable extension charm and a weight-lightening charm. She had fit a large amount of her clothes, for the sake of covering her bases. Mostly jeans and shirts and sweaters and a jacket or two.

Her feet wore a well-worn pair of trainers, with decent grip on them. She had thrown on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and left her pea-coat unbuttoned for the moment. She couldn't be bothered to mess with her hair, leaving it to go back its slightly wavy state.

A part of her was thrilled to be going, simply to get out of the house she had gone to such lengths to keep. Ridiculous, but she didn't have the drive to put the work into it to make it what it should be. She had it now, but it had to become something again.

She grabbed the bag, slipping it over her one shoulder as she headed down the stairs, finding Scabior staring around the small foyer.

Walking past him, she continued into the kitchen, where she grabbed the oranges that had been sitting in a bowl on the island. The bread, a loaf she had bought fresh, was wrapped and followed the fruit into her bag.

The Snatcher leader leaned against the frame, watching her.

He had collected a file on her before coming here, a picture of her smiling like a moron on the arm of a man looking proud. She had come from a family that had a bit of money, but not much. A small fortune left to her, and loopholes in a pre-nupital allowed him to take her money and leave the country with another woman.

Leaving Caden here, burdened with debt and whatever the hell else was in her head.

She looked natural in the kitchen, not in the sense that she was a woman and society's standards of women and the home, but it was like watching an animal in the woods. Their habitat. They knew what they were doing, where everything was.

She zipped up her bag and stared at the window across from her, lost in thought.

"'s a nice 'ouse."

"Yeah." She replied softly. "Shame it's the only thing I've really got."

Silence again.

"C'mon, it's sundown, I told the boys I wouldn't be long."

She followed him as he walked out to the street, not even looking back to see if she was following him. Caden looked over her shoulder, locking the door with a tap of her wand on the knob after she shut it. Scabior had taken a turn into a narrow alley, out of the eyes of the Muggles; he took hold of her arm and Apparated, the force causing a rustle of old newspapers and cardboard.

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><p>They arrived out of the wards up around the campsite, Caden seeing a campfire being put together and one last tent being put up with a few wand waves.<p>

It was group of five men, Scabior, and her. She recognized Greyback instantly, his bulky form emerging from his tent. He glared at Scabior and then stared at Caden, sizing her up. She looked up at Scabior who gave a sharp glare at the werewolf, who grudgingly averted his gaze.

The men stopped what they were doing when their boss opened his mouth.

The faces that turned to them were young and old, a little older than her. Dirty, dotted with stubble, and lined with lack of sleep. One or two of them gave off vibes being downright dangerous, and she made a note to stay as far away from them as she could.

"This 'ere's Caden. She's 'ere because there's a spot to fill an' she owes me a bit of money. End of story." He took her arm and waved it for her as she glared up at him. He made a face, as if telling her to watch herself.

He gestured for her to follow him to a tent, and she should have known they would have been extended inside. To the right, an armchair and a couch, close to a stove, black and glowing bright orange inside as she peered through the slots in the door. A small table was to the left, two folding chairs made of wood. Papers littered the top of the table, establishing it as a work-space. There was another section, added on and breaking off from the main room. It housed a bed and a small table.

"Tha's you." He pointed to his left as he walked past her and continued into the space; there was a raised space in the back, where a bed, much larger than hers, sat. A trunk at the foot of the bed, which Scabior was sorting through in search of something. He pulled out a blanket, tossing it down on her bed.

"Ground rules: you're sleepin' in 'ere because I don't trust the men outside…"

"And I'm supposed to trust _you_?"

"I lived up to my word an' gave you money. Now it's your turn to repay it. So, yeah, you should trust me a bit more than the morons outside." He growled, glaring down at her.

She stayed silent but didn't break from the eye-contact, asserting that she wasn't going to be some meek little thing and comply to every word.

"I'll be the one trainin' you for snatchin'. You'll be doin' the cookin' because that's what the last guy did before 'e kicked the bucket, not because you're a woman. You're equal to those numpties outside, in that if you 'ave to defend yourself, by all means because I'm not gonna always be around. Unless Greyback's around, and then you stick close to me and don't try to agitate 'im. Got it?"

Caden nodded once, Scabior stepping around her as she placed her pack on the bed.

"You can unpack later." He was headed towards the tent's entrance. "'s dinnertime, although technically it's just left-over whatever the 'ell you can find at the moment type of thing. An' we're doing a bit of briefin', which you need to be out 'ere for."

Caden sighed, following Scabior out of the tent and back into the circle arrangement of canvas structures. Logs sat around the fire pit, hastily cleared and given a vague circumference of rocks. It was roaring, casting a strange orange glow over the faces of the men. The sun had finally set and the forest had gotten dark.

She took a seat beside Scabior, leaving a good amount of space between them. Another man sat next to her, but not too close.

Scabior went on about the group of people they were following, passing around folders; pictures, personality traits. To give an idea of who they were, what they might do, where they might go.

It was a neater process than she gave it credit for.

She wasn't prepared when the folders came her way; a runaway student, and a few Ministry workers, or just general people who didn't want to belong to the new regime change. The pictures haunted her; they looked so lively, for some of the pictures were candid shots or pictures taken at events or parties. Some were just the standard Ministry picture. But that they were magical portraits and moved and captured something about the person…they were living, they weren't some criminal to be locked away for murdering a whole block. They were just people with different ideals.

She was just here to tie her life back together, somehow.

What a mess she had gotten herself into, she thought as she crawled into the bed later that night. She had mumbled a good-night to Scabior, who was sitting by the stove and flicking through profiles still.

He knew she wasn't entirely liking her choice when she had stayed silent during and after his lecture. It wasn't the silence that dominated someone with nothing to say. It was the silence of someone preoccupied with their own thoughts, trying to figure out what they'd done.

If this was her reaction to just a meeting about finding a trail and seeing who they were after, she was in for a very rude awakening.


	4. Chapter 4

**And chapter four. Thank you for the reviews, they are appreciated, as always. :)**

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><p>She was jostled awake, shaken when a nudge didn't do the trick, with a gruff "Oi!" from her waker. Out of instinct she jerked into consciousness, trying to make sense of the blur and noise she had woken up to.<p>

"Merlin, you're a 'ard one to wake…" Scabior was looking at a pile of clothes she had laid out for herself when she had unpacked. He tossed them onto the bed. "Get dressed."

"What time is it?" She couldn't hear any birds, no traces of sunlight through the canvas.

"'s 'bout a little past five." Scabior had his back turned, digging through the papers on the table as Caden got dressed, throwing on the jeans and the long sleeved thermal under a sweater. "The rest of the men are all still sleepin'."

"Oh, good for them." She mumbled, trying to blink away the sleep that threatened to pull her eyelids down again. "Dumb question, any coffee?"

"You ain't gettin' any if we did."

"Oh?"

"Coffee's for 'angovers when we actually 'ave it. We don' waste it every single mornin'."

She stayed silent, following him into the cold, dark morning. The fire had died down, embers glowing in the pit, orange on black. Scabior forced an orange into her hands, and she peeled it skillfully, popping a slice into her mouth. The silence between them would have been awkward had there been any other noises of nature around them. The only sound was snoring, muffled, coming from one of the tents.

"So, why am I the only one up?" She was sure her sarcasm would get her smacked or killed if she kept it up, but it seemed to just roll off of her tongue naturally, her native dialect within the English language.

"Can't 'spect you to just randomly be able to run wit' the rest o' us, now can I? You ain't fast 'nough, you ain't strong 'nough, and you sure as 'ell ain't used to 'arming people if need be."

"But it's necessary for me to be up before the sun in order to be trained?"

"Why must you question everythin'?" He turned around, and started towards her, staring down at her. He had been fine a mere moment ago. "You do as I say. If I want you up at the crack o' dawn, you'll be up at the crack o' dawn."

Too tired to argue, Caden finished the fruit, vanishing the rinds with a flick of her mahogany and phoenix feather wand. Come to think of it, where would she put her wand? To stick it in her pocket would result in it either falling out or not being accessible quickly enough. But it was tedious and annoying to hold it. The head Snatcher had a hand on his hip, and she spotted a holster, holding a black wand. She'd have to fashion one herself at some point, but for now, her sleeve was the best she could do.

Scabior had pulled out a cigarette, not that she minded much; out in the open, the smell wasn't as bad. Although she did wonder how he managed to run if his lungs were such condition. Well, if he had just gotten out of Azkaban, then it wasn't like he had been smoking for twenty years. More like starving and left to wander his own mind, reliving horrid moments and attracting Dementors.

No wonder he accepted his job. Out of Azkaban, away from Dementors all the time (except for Ministry visits). Being a go-fer and handing people in to fill the cells they once occupied seemed like a much better deal than sitting and rotting to death.

He lit the end of the cigarette on fire, the tan paper turning to ash and falling to the ground as he rubbed and flicked his fingers, getting rid of the grey dust.

"C'mon."

Caden trudged after him, the sun finally beginning to send an orange and pink light through the trees.

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><p>He was examining a shoe-print, partial, barely visible to her very untrained eyes. He was staring intently at it, glancing at her trainers now and again, as if comparing them.<p>

"'s definitely a girl's footprint, bigger than yours. She was treadin' carefully, sneakin' 'bout; she ain't putting a lot of a pressure into her steps, since it's so 'ard to see…"

Scabior stood up, resting a curved finger on his lips as glanced around the area.

"So, tell me, Cay, why would a girl be sneakin' 'round in the forest?"

Caden shrugged her shoulders, her head lolling to the side for a second. "Because she has something to hide? I mean, she could be hiding from Snatchers, she could be hiding from a lot of things."

"Forest's a big place. Why 'ere, specifically?"

"We're camped, what, sixty or so paces away?"

"Bingo." Caden furled her brow, giving him a skeptical look. "Means she's aware of our presence, and 'as been darin' to see 'ow far she can go before the wards go off. But she's 'idin' 'er steps, or so she thinks. Means someone's nearby, means we might eventually 'ave a trail."

Scabior pulled out his small book and a quill tucked inside, scribbling down notes.

"It's tiny and may seem insignificant, but you're a 'unter now, Caden. These little clues will 'elp. Footprints, strange marks on a tree that may be a path, certain calls, scents, scrapes of anythin' they chuck an' don't think 'bout again." He finished writing, tucking the book back into the inside of jacket, in a pocket close to his breast. "Let's see 'ow you are at runnin'."

He made to walk off, and then stopped, waiting for her to step beside him. She rolled her eyes and got ready, kicking up leaves as they started running.

It hadn't been so bad within the first thirty seconds. He was a little ahead of her, but only enough to lead her in a direction. Weaving in and out of trees, leaping over fallen logs, jumping branches and bramble like hurdles. Her heart was pounding, the sound of rushing blood filling her ears over the rustle of leaves and stomping feet. Her lungs were on fire, and she wanted to stop and catch her breath. Scabior had long since taken lead, plaid-covered legs and a black jacket being her focus.

Her foot was caught suddenly, violently, into a hole in a log she had jumped on to, to use it as a sort of leverage to throw her forward. Her foot stuck, her body made to continue forward, the force knocking her against the forest floor, the air pushed from her lungs instantly. She gasped for air, her diaphragm suddenly very out of whack. She needed air, bad. It hurt.

Scabior had finally noticed she was no longer behind him, as he stopped running. He watched her struggle, try to get air while remove her leg from the trap. She blasted away the bark, freeing herself and trying to stand. She was shaky, unsure of her movements.

Nothing was broken, she discovered, with a shift of her weight. Pain, yes, but everything was whole. Her breathing returned to relative normality, as normal as it could be having run Merlin knew how far.

Scabior must have figured that they were out far enough; he didn't push her to keep running. He walked in a circle, muttering what sounded like Muggle-repelling and silencing charms. It was a small circle, perhaps the size of an average circle of on-lookers in a street fight. She tried to associate certain spots with the barrier, a tree, a rock, a piece of brush.

"What'd you do before needin' a large sum o' money to solve your problem?" It was a random question, and had she not gotten it into her head that every little piece mattered with these guys, she would have thought it conversational.

"I worked in the Improper Use of Magic office. Nothing special."

"That's past tense; what 'appened?"

"Lots of things." But she was not going to get into them now, and she hoped her tongue would stay as tight if she ever got drunk around him.

"'ow are you at duelin'?" He stood in front of her, legs shoulder-width apart, wand in both of his hands in front of him.

"Decent enough."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; she drew her wand from her sleeve, the formalities of dueling not forgotten (because it was an honorable sport). He threw hex after hex at her, and she barely managed to repel every one. Caden whipped around a flame headed towards her and deflected it back towards Scabior, but it was far from a skillful move, since she missed entirely.

Caden hadn't blocked the next spell in time, and found herself spinning through the air, landing near the boundaries of the circle. Her breath was gone again. Damn.

She couldn't get up, Scabior taking that as a forfeit. He holstered his wand and slaughtered over to her, staring down at her sprawled form.

"'Decent 'nough'?' That was 'orrible, to put it lightly." He was irritated at her lack of skill.

"So it's been a while. It's not like I haven't dueled before." She hissed, getting her breath back.

"Well, you're gonna 'ave to do better than that, dear little Caden." He kicked her ankle. "Turn your feet towards me."

Knowing questioning him and being snarky would get her nowhere, she did as she was asked. He nudged her legs up, so she was on her back with her legs folded. Scabior placed his booted feet on top of hers, just enough pressure to not allow them to move.

"What…?"

"Sit-ups. Until I say you're done."

Caden glared up at him, but grudgingly began the physical work-out. It was strange, such a _muggle_ concept being used by a Snatcher. Then again, it was about physical strength and stamina, and magical beings and Muggles were only so different in their abilities. Physically, they were the same. Exercise meant muscle and stamina.

She began trembling with exhaustion, her body demanding she stop, her mind telling her she had to keep going. Scabior, noticing her slower pace, pressed harder on her feet. The pain was ridiculous; if it wasn't from the abdominal work-out, it was from Scabior's stupid heavy feet crushing her toes.

She collapsed, refusing to move. Scabior seemed satisfied however, and stepped away from her. He looked down at her again, patronizingly. She had a few choice words for him in her mind.

"Make it back to camp before nightfall. I ain't comin' to find you if you don' make it back by then."

She closed her eyes for a moment, not to sleep but to clear her mind. She opened them again, and he was gone. She had a whole end of the morning and afternoon. A generous amount of time, so she thought.

She let out a muttered string of profanity and stumbled to her feet, looking for familiar signs that would lead her back to camp.

* * *

><p>Caden had made it as the sun was meeting the horizon. She had overestimated the time and underestimated her skill in direction. She was tired, sore, and pissed off.<p>

She trudged into camp, making a path for the tent so she could strip off her sweat-smelling clothes and wash her face and heal the toes that were now no doubt broken.

Scabior was sitting at the fire, alone, flicking through that stupid little black book of names. "An' where you do you think you're goin'?" He asked, not looking up at her. "Nice timing, by the way. Would 'ave been nice if you got 'ere earlier, though."

"I was going to go and pass out for the next twelve hours of my life, but was planning on healing my toes and whatever bruises I may have." She retorted. "That kind of seems a bit important, so I'm not in a state of absolute pain for your next little training session."

He let his gaze fall upon her through his peripheral vision, blue eyes warning her of her attitude.

"You're gonna be makin' us all dinner before you even step foot in that tent, Caden."

"And what if I'm so tired I cut myself?"

"We'll take care of it when or if it 'appens. Now get over 'ere and make use of this venison Greyback got before it rots and stinks up the place."

Caden sighed, sitting in front of the fire pit and removing the pot, cold and scorched, but clean. She muttered _Aguamenti_, filling it with enough water to boil some of the vegetables around. Starting a fire, she hung the heavy pot on the stand, flames licking the bottom of the pot. Another pan, abused but clean, received a bit of water and some cubes of deer meat.

She wished she had more to work with; it could have made a much tastier stew if she did.

The men had come back into camp or stumbled out of their tent around the time the dish was ready. Each helped himself to a bowlful, eying it cautiously, as if afraid she'd poisoned it.

She had set aside a few cuts of deer meat, still raw, for Greyback, as Scabior had told her to before she threw all of the meat in. A large hand, a dirty finger with a claw that passed for a nail, pointed to it. She handed him the bowl and received a courteous although forced thanks.

Caden barely ate anything as the men swallowed every bit of her pathetic excuse for a soup. They took seconds, Scabior seemingly surprised with it. By no means was it a home-cooked meal or a pub meal or a five-star restaurant dish, but it was far better than what they had eaten at camp before.

Her bowl remained half-full as the men recounted stories, sharing what they had found out in the woods. Scabior, who had scooted closer to her, took one look at her bowl and then back at her.

"I suggest you finish that. I'm not 'avin' you willfully starve yourself out 'ere. Because that 'appens unintentionally and you need whatever you can get." He whispered.

She wanted to reply that she had no intention of starving herself, that she was too tired to chew. But that might cause some strange scene of Scabior force-feeding her and moving her jaw himself to get her to chew. The hell had that thought come from?

Caden slowly finished her bowl while listening to one of the men talk about a scene from the other night in London.

She had changed into pajamas, flannel pants and a long sleeved shirt. Her toes were an angry red, and decently swollen. She pointed her wand at each one, non-verbally using _Episkey_ to fix them. She moved them, sighing with relief as she flexed them.

"I didn' mean to push that 'ard on 'em. I forgot 'bout the steel toe in these things." She looked up at Scabior, standing by the table with his papers, scattered again. His jacket laid across the couch. "For campfire food, that was…well, better than what we've 'ad recently."

"Yeah, well, practice. The husband used to teach me; he was a cook." She averted her gaze to the canvas on her left, watching the shadows play across the rough fabric. "Would have tasted better if I hadn't worked with water, but…"

"Eh, no one really notices the details with food. If it smells good an' tastes well 'nough."

"I suppose."

Her body language was saying it all; leave me alone. Scabior knew that, could see it clear as day. But a part of him couldn't. He hadn't pushed her hard, they both knew that he could have been a downright asshole about her training. But that usually led to people hating him for trying to fit physical change and ability in a small amount of time.

"Tea's on, outside. You want a cup?" The only thing he could think to say to break the silence.

She was reaching for a book she had brought with her, an old paperback yellowing with age and use. Looking up at him, she blinked, slightly surprised he wouldn't ask her to get it for him. "That would be nice…thanks…"

He nodded once, and quietly strode out of the tent, leaving her to bury her head into the book.


	5. Chapter 5

**Short update. Just to get the plot moving a bit more. Reviews are welcomed and appreciated.**

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><p>A couple of weeks had passed by in a blur. Caden was woken up before everyone else, dragged out into the woods for running and general physical training. Her dueling got better, although not at the point Scabior wanted it to be. She stopped getting tired so easily, and kept up with Scabior.<p>

She began to spend time with the men around the fire, not just darting into the tent to curl up and sleep as long as she could. She couldn't consider any of them to be friends, but they had to live together for who knew how long, might as well make an effort and try to be nice. She took a swig from the flask that usually made its way around the circle after dinner, like some strange ritual.

The same man always sat next to her, the one from her first night. Alec was the name he answered to, and he refused to say anything further about it. Some went by last names, some by first. It was never an issue to be pressed, she had learned. He wasn't as integrated into the group as the other few seemed to be, so he clung to her whenever they were in camp together.

That was usually when she was cooking, getting frustrated at not knowing cooking spells and hating the dull knives she had to use. She instantly knew it was him when she saw a mop of light brown hair, and green eyes, a bit of scruff dotting his face. Caden didn't hate his company, but somehow being alone made things a little more bearable, especially if Scabior was in a bad mood.

She had been boiling potatoes and left-over vegetables, and was cutting venison that Greyback had caught.

She hadn't even been shocked that he dropped it in the middle of camp when he arrived back one day. That should have alarmed her, not being startled by the presence of an animal corpse. But the more time she spent out here, the less there was to be shocked by. The stories the men told at night, those were things that sent shivers of fear down her spine. As did the glares Greyback sent her occasionally. But she steered clear of him, always made sure he had his share of raw meat and never aggravated him, and he left her alone.

Alec had come from behind; his footsteps were distinct to her now, as were Scabior's. The former's were heavier, not caring if he was heard, while their boss's were lighter, a bit more cautious in some cases. It seemed to be a habit he had for many years; before Azkaban (a game of Deprivation had left her and one other as the only two playing that hadn't raised their hands, as Greyback had frowned and went into his tent). Caden figured he had to tread carefully in his own house as a child or at Hogwarts when sneaking around past curfew.

"You seen Scab? I've got to tell 'im somethin'." He crouched down beside her, completely oblivious to her concentration on cutting away the good meat.

"He came back with me, if that's what you mean. He should be inside." She jabbed the knife in the direction of the tent she shared. "If not, then I don't have a clue."

Alec frowned lightly, but got up and went to see if their boss was in his tent. Scabior had been looking over notes, and had startled Caden as he stepped out of the tent, followed by Alec.

"Oi! You lot all 'ere?" He called, his eyebrows furled in thought, as if he was trying to plan and understand what he was just told.

Caden looked up from her cooking, Alec went to sit beside to her. Greyback stepped out of his tent and the few stranglers stepped into camp, looking curiously at Scabior.

"We 'ave a trail, lads an' lady. Alec 'ere tells me there's a group of runaways 'eadin' to find a new campsite tomorrow. Stupid 'nough not to 'ave protective enchantments for wha'ever reason, so we should be able to spot them as they're packin' and get 'em while they're movin'. I want you lot prepared to 'ead out early tomorrow an' follow Alec to where he saw 'em. Got it?"

Caden peered around, and watched a man hesitantly put his hand into the air, like a student back at Hogwarts.

"Yes, Stevens?" Scabior's voice was laden with its usual slight sarcasm-he sounded very displeased at having to answer questions.

"They students or just general folks on the run?"

Everyone turned to Alec, as he had been the bearer of news and had seen the people they were going to go after.

"Two truants and three adults; two of 'em I'm pretty sure used to work at the Ministry." Alec was looking at Scabior, making eye contact with him, not anyone else, in hopes of establishing confidence in his words.

"Righ'. Caden, c'mere. Someone look after dinner, I don't feel like eatin' mush." Scabior gestured to her, and she stood up, brushing her pants off as she headed into the tent after him.

She sat in the armchair he pointed to as he began pacing, thinking.

"It's 'ard to know what they'll do, their movements when they're runnin'; some can turn drastic because they're not thinkin' straight, others are calm and logical 'bout it. You don' look like a Snatcher, not really; more like a woman who 'appened to 'ead out in the woods for a bit. The men 'ave been getting' agitated, they need a chase. But we can't afford to let 'em get away-we need the gold. Do you think you'd be able to play a bit of a role? Gain their trust, lead 'em to a spot where we'll be waitin' to take 'em? You'd have to play along and get captured, but…"

Caden peered at him, watching him pace and think. It wasn't mad pacing, not the maniacal kind of a genius, but very calm. He rubbed his finger against his lips as he stopped, looking at the tent flap.

His plan put a lot of her shoulders. It would work if she didn't screw up. Things had to go exactly as they needed them to. She may have been training, but this was a test of not only her skills, but her loyalty. Mess this up, she'd be stuck a scullery maid and never let out of the campsite.

She couldn't afford to think like that. If she needed to do this, then she needed to do it. To protect her own skin, as that was how it seemed to work around here.

"Yeah. I can play helpless and lost for a little while, see how trusting they are."

"Good. I'll throw a plan together and go over it with the lot of you after supper."

She took that as a dismissal, and he didn't stop here from stepping back out in the chilly evening, taking her place beside Alec.


	6. Chapter 6

**A bit of filler, with a small scene of Caden and Scabior. Very short. Hopefully will get around to getting the plan moving in the next chapter or two.**

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><p>She couldn't sleep. She tossed and she turned and she stared straight up at the canvas over her head, but for the love of everything, she couldn't sleep.<p>

She had taken down a bit more Firewhiskey than usual, in hopes it would at least help; previous experience told her she wouldn't be able to sleep when she was stressed. Previous experience being lawyers and a stupid ex-husband and bankers wanting their money.

But this…she would be leading students and innocent people into a trap in order for them to be captured and given away for money.

Caden gave up trying to sleep, grabbed her novel, and quietly made her way to the stove, which was still going on embers. She warmed her hands and curled up onto the couch, finding where she left off. She pulled the sleeves of her thermal over her hands and pulled the legs of her flannel pajama bottoms over her feet, to try and keep a little heat. Her eyes immediately drooped, the words blending in her mind, but sleep refused to come. The fear of failure, of ruining her chance to at least be out and working off her debt leaping to the fore front of her mind. Why couldn't they simply run after them? Really, they wouldn't get away; they were all too eager to have something to do. Why'd she have to go in and look like a runaway and lead them to a spot?

Then again, she wasn't afraid of doing it and failing so much as what would come if she failed. She had no idea. Scabior obviously didn't want to lose another person after just finding a new one; one that cooked decently and owed him something.

She was valuable. Hence, really, she couldn't be…killed. Messed up a bit, sure. But not killed. Well, it was something.

"You're a 'ard one to wake an' be damned if anyone else actually gets sleep when you can't."

Caden jumped, but only just-her training was slowly desensitizing her to sudden sounds or movements. She turned her head to the left and looked, rubbing her eye for a moment. She could just make out Scabior's face in the dim light coming from the stove. The shadows across his face made him look far more sinister than she remembered him being, bringing out the true horror associated with Snatchers.

Granted, being among Death Eaters would be far more terrifying, so she thought.

"I didn't…I wasn't trying…"

"You weren't loud by any means, but in the dead silence o' the forest, rustlin' blankets makes a lot of ruckus, love."

He sat down beside her, taking up most of the other end of the couch. He reached over and took the novel from her hands, holding her page as he turned it so the cover faced him. Scabior looked at the title and author, head slightly cocked to the side.

"Muggle author?"

"No, she was a witch. Lot of her stories are about people in Wizarding Britain. Just light-hearted drivel, really." Caden waved an arm, her hand still wrapped in her sleeve.

"Light-'earted?"

"Very..trivial matters that the characters worry about, sort of up-beat in places. Love, friends, family, who wore a certain dress when and who made it. I don't…like that life, but it's good reading when you're bored and sick of reading the Prophet and the lists of dead and missing."

"Those lists are our careers, Caden. Because those people on the missing list are out 'ere, with us. And the dead…well, they might not actually be dead…"

She watched Scabior's face pull into an amused grimace of sorts when he read the first few lines of the page she was on. There were no romance scenes, something he might have suspected of her (she was a woman, some of them enjoyed trivial stories with steamy scenes), but the narrator was ridiculous. Her trains of thought sporadic and petty and just straight up ridiculous.

"Yeah, 'eavy readin' ain't really my thing."

"Most of my good books were taken. I don't think this book was actually mine to begin with." She reached over and took it back, dog-earing the page and setting it in her lap.

"Why you 'avin' trouble sleepin', love?"

"I…I just think that you're asking me to do is not what you've been training be for." She looked down at her knees, finding the fabric fascinating for a moment before looking up. Caden almost felt like a child who had a bad dream but couldn't tell her parents about it or something. "It's…I never thought I'd be interacting with the people we catch."

Scabior sank down into the couch, adjusting his legs accordingly, which happened to be kicking Caden playfully; she moved so that her legs were beneath her. His head rested on the arm-rest, leaning back and looking up at the canvas ceiling. If he were smoking, she didn't doubt that he would be blowing smoke straight up above him in a steady stream, thinking or just spacing out.

"Caden…"

"It's a stupid worry."

"Anyone else would be wonderin' wha' they're worth."

"I don't…"

"Don't matter-your share goes to me since you owe me money."

"I was never worried about that."

"Yet when it came to needin' it…"

"Scabior…"

"I'm joshin', Cay. You ain't in this to make money, not like the others. Not like me." He nudged her knee with his toe, leaving his foot there. "You ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout."

She was silent for a moment, watching him. She couldn't see much of his face until he sat up, propping his upper body up on his elbows to look at her.

"I wouldn't 'ave asked you to do it if I didn't think you could, Caden."

She blinked, skeptical of his words. She'd had people tell her the same thing, her ex-husband used to give her reassuring words too, and look how well that worked out. It hadn't. She couldn't very well trust a Snatcher as far as she could throw him, but on some level, she had no choice. This went beyond that. She didn't have to know he believed in her, if he really did. Opinions of her were irrelevant, really.

So why was there a rush of relief in her chest at his words? She didn't need his words to make her confident. Yet…it was nice knowing the one who assigned the task knew she was capable of the job, hopefully.

"Let's go, get back into bed. This little pep-talk session's over." He rolled himself off the couch, putting his feet first and was standing in one swift motion, walking towards his bed in the back.

Caden sighed, and shuffled back to her cot, hoping sleep would come easier as she buried herself under the covers.


	7. Chapter 7

**Bit of a longer chapter this time around. I originally had one giant chapter of the whole thing, but I thought it would be better to break it up. Thus, I'll put up the next part a little later. **

**Oh, and a bit of cursing (same word, twice). **

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><p>Scabior jostled her awake again a few hours later; she gave no complaint as she dressed, threw on her sneakers and coat and followed him outside to an empty camp-site.<p>

Alec had already taken the men to where the group would be sleeping soundly, unaware of their presence. They would watch and lay waiting, until Caden assimilated into their little band of runaways. Then it was just a matter of her leading them to the agreed-upon location.

Even though Scabior's words had helped a little, she was still doubtful; that was clear to him when she sat down and grabbed a bit of bread and fruit. She was eating light, afraid of her nerves getting the best of her. Even her tea was sipped slowly; it was almost like she forgot she was holding it every few moments.

"Time to go." Caden vanished the tea inside the cup, grabbing the bag of a meager amount of food and clothes, just in case.

She followed Scabior out of the enchantments, clutching her jacket closer to her as they reached the others. Alec stared at her for a moment, and glanced down at the tent down the slope. He went over to Scabior, and the two conversed quietly. Their leader listened, casting glances every now and then to the only woman among them.

Alec went over to her, hands on her upper arms for a moment, a silent gesture of 'hold still'. He ran his fingers through her hair, teasing it and trying to tangle some of the locks. He brushed dirt onto her jacket (mindful of her chest), had her rub her hands in dirt. His fingers lingered on her face, and her thighs as he dirtied her up, making her look like she actually had been sleeping on the ground and didn't own a hairbrush.

She hadn't had a man's hands anywhere near her body longer than she'd care to admit. His hands, like Scabior's, were weathered, masculine. Warm. Her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers brushed the tops of her thighs. He turned her around and did the same to her back, apologizing quietly his hands grazed her backside.

She could feel Scabior's gaze on them, a tinge of irritation directed at them. Caden didn't miss the evident pupil dilation in Alec's eyes. Oh.

He said nothing, and returned to his post.

"You'll go down in a little while, they usually wake 'round six. Loud footfalls, try an' get their attention, yeah?" Scabior played a piece of her hair, twirling it around his finger. "You'll do fine, Caden."

* * *

><p>She did as was suggested, and made her footfalls heavier than they usually would have been, even without training. She thumped through leaves and crushed them, making sure they crunched under her feet. She snapped twigs underfoot.<p>

The idea was to appear naïve and innocent, like she didn't know Snatchers existed and had just started out a few days ago. Running low on food, no shelter.

A head peeked out from the tent, giving her a hard look as she reached the bottom of the slope, looking around. A hand was clasped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist; she was pulled inside and thrown back, the figure looking out again to see if there was anybody else.

"Your stomping could wake a hippogriff, girly. Are you aware of how dangerous it is out there?" He was an older man, maybe her father's age or so. Grey hair, narrow dark eyes. "Was anyone following you?"

"Why would anyone be following me? It's the middle of nowhere." That's it. Play the city girl who has no idea what camping is.

"Oh, Merlin, you're kiddin'." One of the students behind her, a boy with an Irish accent, rolled his eyes. "Please tell me you're kiddin', lady."

"I'm afraid I don't…"

She looked around the tent, taking in the faces of the people around her. There were two truants, just as Alec had said. A boy and girl. The older man. And…

_Sweet Merlin, let this be some cruel, horrid twist of fate,_ Caden thought.

Sitting the corner was a man with black hair, a man she'd recognize anywhere, with a raggedy blonde woman clearly not happy about not being able to look to her best. They…no, they left. They fled state-side. How could…shit, this was not a good plan, and it was too late to back out. They'd already seen her, and Scabior expected her to be able to pull this off.

If he recognized her…he had always been able to read her like a book. He was a smart man. Logical.

Caden's stomach dropped, twisted, wrenched itself in a way she didn't know was possible. _Calm down, Caden, come on now._ She berated herself to try and not give anything away on her face. Stay impassive, unreadable.

But why were they back in Britain?

"Snatchers." The blonde woman said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"They're disgusting workers, doing the dirty work the Ministry itself doesn't want to do. Turning in people for gold. Prisoners of Azkaban that were given a choice; their freedom left a lot of cells open in Azkaban for the 'undesirables' and hence their profession." Caden's ex-husband spewed the words violently, as if insulted to have to even explain it.

The old man went over to an old stove, nestled in a make-shift kitchen. He was pouring cups of tea, and added another cup to the lot.

Oh, Merlin, they were too trusting. Didn't even know her name and already giving her tea. Caden's stomach clenched up again, and she felt like bailing, telling them to pack up and get the hell out of here. Just so she didn't have to sit in the tent with those eyes on her.

_Self-preservation_. The only words that kept her from doing it. She did not feel like being beaten up, tortured, or worse because she failed.

But wait…if he was on the run…that meant he was wanted. Clearly something had happened with his good standing as a Pureblood. And if he was wanted, they'd turn him over to the Dementors. But they'd be at camp for a day or two with them.

She could have laughed out loud if it wouldn't have been so strange. The tables had turned. She just had to make it through with her cover intact, and hope Scabior would give her the opportunity to take a chance at getting information out of them.

"So they turn in people the Ministry is after?" Caden continued her naivety, accepting the cup offered to her, tossing in a quick thanks at the end of her question.

The older man sat down at the table, gesturing for her to sit. She did, although not entirely on the seat; nervous, edgy. She wasn't sure how to accept their hospitality, and she couldn't relax knowing he was watching her, despite the blonde settling in on his lap.

"They know who didn't register as Muggleborn in the new regime, since blood-status is in everyone's file. There's a list, you see, of people; Muggleborns, purebloods considered traitors, runaway students who never showed up to school. They work from that list, catching people and giving them to the Ministry for gold. Mercenaries, really, since they sometimes kill their victims."

So he clearly worked at the Ministry at one point then, if he knew what was supposed to be in a personnel file.

She looked around the tent in silence. A sleeping area to her left was dominated by two beds, neatly made and clothes folded ready to be put into a pack. Clearly the female side.

To the back, behind her, a set of bunk beds and a free-standing cot. A sectioned off bathroom was next to it.

"So why are _you_ out here?" The voice made her internally cringe from its accusatory tone. How like him. "Surely a woman lacking in the skills of survival wouldn't come out into the woods with so little on her back."

She had to stop herself from contorting her face in absolute fury, relax her muscles that had tensed up. She wanted to use her new strength and beat the living crap out of him for leaving her and thus leading her into the only option she had left.

But she had to wait. If this was going to work, if the shock was going to come at the right time, she'd have to wait.

"I had far more supplies when I actually started my journey, thanks."

"You never gave us a name, either. If this hospitality is to continue, Richard…it's bad enough we took in two Hogwarts kids."

"Cassidy." Shit, she couldn't have picked a name that started with a different letter? At least she would be more likely to respond to it.

"There, Jonathan. Would it kill you to be a bit less harsh sometimes?" The older man, Richard, said. "She gave her name, and I'm sure had you simply asked, she would have given it."

Caden ducked her head, tapping her fingers against the mug softly. No, perhaps charm a frying pan to hit him over the head. She would never again be nice to the man.

"Pardon my caution, but I refuse to simply take in every runaway that crosses our path. This are horrid times, everyone's looking out for themselves…"

"Including you." The female student interjected.

"I don't think any of us would fancy being caught, hmm, Gracie?"

The arguing would be enough to have Scabior's attention up on the hill; that much she knew. There were no wards up, she had walked right through. No concealment charms, no silencing charms, and here they were arguing.

It was only a matter of time, with this lot.

"If you're so concerned about these Snatchers, wouldn't you be better off not shouting at each other?" Caden suggested, trying to sound innocent and hide her frustration.

They all stopped, shifted in their seats. But they stopped talking, a relief to her.

"Where were you headed, Cassidy?" Richard asked, leaning against the small counter behind him that served as a prep area for meals.

"I know there's a village not far from here, just a small, Muggle hamlet I'd be able to stop at and grab some food, maybe a room for the night. I'm not daft enough to stay in one place for too long." She answered, hoping to send a silent message to the man behind her that she wasn't entirely stupid (or as she was leading them to believe).

"We were getting ready to pack up and head out ourselves, a bit more east. Your village in that direction?"

East. Perfect. Very, very, perfect.

"Yes, I think is."

"Excellent. You can help with the packing."

Richard's kind eyes did nothing to ease the icy shards she felt from the eyes glaring at her back.


	8. Chapter 8

**And the next chapter, as promised. **

**I didn't give the blonde woman a name until this chapter (meant to be later on, had I not chopped it up), leaving me only to name Caden's ex-husband. I just refer to her as 'the blonde woman' or 'blondie' until towards the end, more so because I hadn't intended to name her. But what the hell.**

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><p>They had packed up the tent, leaving everything inside, although secured with a sticking charm so that nothing moves about. It was a quick process, but then again, they had been doing it often enough that it just back routine, she figured.<p>

It was after noon now; they had been walking for hours, stopping to rest and eat, and then move again. Since Caden had been the one to mention the village, she was the one leading, almost. She didn't want to seem as if she had a sense of direction, but that was so natural to her now. She knew to adjust according to the angle of sun, since the movement was no longer in an arc directly over them anymore.

She also knew the destination point, and had been there so many times, she was almost on autopilot.

They had stopped again, and save conversation between the blonde woman (Caden could not remember her name from the paperwork, nor had she bothered asking, since she really didn't give a damn) and Jonathan, or the students, no one really spoke. Caden had been the first to shoulder her pack and start moving, brushing past Jonathan. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her to him, hissing, "Richard might trust you, but I certainly don't, little _Cassidy_."

Her mind went blank and then began thinking at a pace she didn't know was possible. She wrenched away from him and walked off towards the head of the group.

No, he didn't know it was her. He didn't recognize her, couldn't have. Right? He was just mocking her, hating her because she intruded on the peace they had, on the plan they no doubt had that got changed because of her.

Good. Let him hate her. It fueled the hatred she had for him even further, her stomach on fire with anger. It showed in her stride, in the way she held herself. No one suspected it was deeper than simply being taunted.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall, thin figure in a black coat for a split second before it darted behind a tree. They were following her, and they were on the right path to their capture.

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><p>"Are you sure you're going the right way?" Jonathan's patronizing voice made its way to her ears; they had a wake-up call when she mentioned the arguing in the tent, and had since decided any conversation would be done within ear-shot of each other and no louder. "If I recall, you seemed very lost this morning until you stumbled on us. How do you know you're going the right way?"<p>

"I'm a witch, bloody moron." She replied, holding up her wand and shaking her arm for emphasis. "It's called 'The Four Point Spell', something you should try sometime." Not that she needed it. But she had cast it a few times for emphasis, to keep up appearances of lacking a sense of direction.

No, her anger wasn't beginning to show _at all_.

This was it. The clearing was ahead. Even if the guys hadn't kept up with them, their arguing had gone on for too long for someone not to hear it. Damn.

Maybe the divorce _was_ the best thing that ever happened to her, if this was what he was really like.

Gracie went down first, tackled to the ground by a bolt of brown, her scream silenced by a giant hand with dirty, pointed nails. Greyback. Of course.

It happened quickly, no one assessing what was happening quickly enough to start running. The men needed a real chase, but this got them their gold, and a reward which was usually drinks at a pub, true beds, and potential bedmates.

Greyback held onto the blonde woman and Gracie, nuzzling her hair and licking his lips, not even bothering to try and hide his desire for the girl. Alec had grabbed Caden, and she pretended to put up a struggle, trying not to join in the soft laughing coming from him. The other two had grabbed Richard and Jonathan and the boy, named Aubrey.

She wanted to thank whoever got Jonathan unconscious and gave him that shiner that was starting to form on his face.

Scabior hadn't even bothered joining in, but strolled down the hill like it was no big deal. Caden thought perhaps it was due to wanting to create a bit of drama, but then again, maybe he just didn't feel like running and it had been too easy for him to care.

"Names, you lot. Now." He growled, catching the black book of names tossed to him by Alec.

No one spoke. Gracie was near tears, Aubrey still stubbornly struggling. Blondie was trying to control her sobbing, staring at Jonathan's figure that was starting to stir. It was enough to make Caden roll her eyes, but she couldn't. She couldn't blow it just yet.

"Richard Demmings."

Scabior smirked, finding the name with no problem. "Failed to register wit' the Muggle-born Registration Commission, did you, Richy?"

There was no reply. No one expected one.

"You, kiddy?" The one holding Aubrey grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled, making him look at their leader.

"Aubrey Winshire."

"Truant. An' the girl, she your sister?"

"Gracie Winshire." The boy growled, casting a glance at Greyback.

"'nother truant. Don't you kids want to learn? 'ow do you expect to learn if you ain't at school?"

Scabior moved on, rolling Jonathan over with his boot. He gave a look at the blonde, nearly hysterical now.

"Your boyfriend?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice, but it went unnoticed to everyone but the sobbing woman. "Oh please, 'e's comin' 'round." He silenced her with a flick of his wand.

"Who're you?" The head snatcher asked as the one holding Jonathan pulled him up, ignoring the hisses of pain.

"Jonathan Allen." His face contorted in agony, and Caden had to suppress the urge to let a smirk grace her lips.

"Blood-traitor, awaiting a trial you've put off for…hmm, quite a few months, eh? Blondie your little girlfriend?"

"She's my _wife_, you piece of filth."

Scabior pocketed the book. He matched the picture in Caden's file exactly. Hair, eyes, height. Why'd she keep the last name?

A glance at her told him everything. The arguing he saw (perhaps not arguing, but it didn't look like Jonny-boy got along with her too well earlier), the anger finally bubbling to the surface. _Jonathan_ hadn't figured out it was his ex-wife that helped get them captured. The irony of the entire situation was almost too much to bear, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Caden would get a bit of revenge, perhaps, if he was feeling generous later.

He shook his head, smirking, before grabbing at Jonathan's lapels, and pressing his forehead against the other man's. "I'm a piece o' filth? Really now? Says the man who left his wife with naught a knut to 'er name for a little 'arlot by the name of Lorelei Peterson, wanted for questioning 'bout 'er 'ertiage as well." Scabior looked over the silenced woman, who stared at him with wide eyes, face red and streaked with tears, her hair limp and dirty; she looked like a child that spent too long playing outside. "That's you, ain't it, dearie?"

He dropped Jonathan abruptly, sauntering over to Caden, who looked at him with wide eyes, shocked as to how he knew. Alec hadn't let go of her yet; she figured it was to look good until they reached camp. Rather than putting on a show of asking her name, Scabior grabbed her jaw, made a show of burying his nose in her hair, nuzzling her, a gesture that set her on edge. His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered in her ear, "I'll explain later, love. For now, keep your anger in check."

Alec met their leader's eyes for a brief moment, angry at his invasion of Caden's space and nuzzling her. A glare in his direction sent his eyes right down, an apology for having questioned him, for thinking there was something else behind the gesture that encroached on Alec's own infatuation. She felt the tension of male dominance around her, and suppressed a shiver as Scabior took her from Alec's hold roughly, an arm around her waist. Aubrey was shoved into Alec's hands and she soon found herself being dragged along back to camp.

Scabior refused to acknowledge that he had enjoyed being that close to Caden, sharing a grin and holding her against him as they trudged back to camp, captives in tow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Small, quick update. Finals are coming up, and I have a lot of work to do. Hopefully I'll be able to get ahead of it and gain some time, but who knows. **

**Reviews are always lovely, and thank you to everyone who's dropped one by. :)**

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><p>It was so strange to be thrilled at arriving back at camp. She'd compare it to every time she went back to Hogwarts, but that was on a far different level. Caden had learned to think of the circle of tents and the fire and familiar line of trees as a sort of home-away-from-home.<p>

It was relief, an ease of tension. Knowing she only had a short time left of keeping up appearances.

A slight increase in pressure at her side gave her a warning that she would have to start again. She had grown used to the scents that surrounded her; dirt, sweat, fire, tobacco, alcohol. Being so close to him, practically glued at his side, she was given most of these familiar smells, with something strictly _him_. Even being in his tent, she had never really noticed it before.

"Put 'em in there, tie 'em up. You know the drill." Scabior direction, waving his free hand in the general direction of the free tent as they passed it. He pulled Caden roughly, grabbing her hair and trailing a finger along her jaw, his face so close to hers. "I want a word wit' this one."

She was shoved into the tent she had gotten used to, stumbling through the threshold. Scabior had followed her inside, putting a muffling charm on the tent as he caught her by the back of her jacket's collar.

He steadied her and then walked right past her, digging through his papers.

She was about to open her mouth and spew the questions that had been on her lips for the entire walk back when she saw Scabior pull a folder from underneath the pile. It was a beat-up manila folder, the kind offices use. Coffee stains, worn edges. The tab had her name written in bold print.

He walked back over to her and held it out, waiting for Caden to take it. There was no shock on her face, only confusion. Why would there be a file on her? Other than that she used to work at the Ministry, there was no point in one.

She took it, walking towards her cot as she flipped through. A wedding picture, a profile on her: her NEWT grades, house and financial situation, job, blood-status. Of course. How could she not have expected such a thing?

"This was how you knew? How you knew who he was, why he left me?" Her voice was just audible, afraid to speak any louder despite the charm on the tent.

"Yeah. I took a file on everyone-just to familiarize myself with…"

"The people you work with. Got it." She flipped through it some more; it wasn't a particularly thick folder, but it wasn't thin, either. Her stomach churned a picture of Jonanthan and the other woman, smiling, so happy. The kind of happy he had never been with Caden. "I feel as though he hates me. He didn't even recognize me, didn't know who I was. At least, I don't think he did. Hurts, in an odd way."

She sat down on the cot and closed the folder, placing it beside her. He watched as she perched her elbows on her knees and placed her head against her folded hands, right under her nose. A thinking pose, but her thoughts were months and years behind the present.

Scabior sat beside her, the bed creaking slightly at the additional weight.

"I'm sure there's a way to get some sort o' revenge. You 'ave the upper 'and 'ere." He was hesitant at the suggestion, not quite sure how she would react. "'e 'urt you, you 'urt 'im back, right?" He swayed into her, nudging her with his elbow, a small grin on his face.

He watched as he arms fell into her lap and a small smile, steadying herself from being pushed.

"He deserves it. I know he does. My gut says so. But…wouldn't that make me just as bad as him? Wouldn't it be better to show I'm better off without him?" Caden hated how pathetic and inspirational that sounded. She was not going to have relationship talks with Scabior, as if he was really an expert on such things.

"That depends. 'e 'urt you 'ere," he put a finger on her chest, tapping her sternum, "and sure, givin' 'im a bit of physical pain might ease yours, but…"

"It wouldn't take it away."

"No, love."

She nodded slowly.

"I want to see the look on his smug face when realizes how ironic this situation is. We trapped each other in marriage. He trapped me when he left, and I've trapped him now, unknowingly. He doesn't have a way out this time."

"You ain't gonna kill 'im, Caden. We need the gold."

She couldn't help but laugh at his assumption of her killing her ex-husband like the witches in radio soap operas.

"No. Just…let him overhear a conversation or two at dinner. And let it go from there. I'll figure out something."

Scabior rubbed his chin with his hand, and then stood up, pointing to her as he spoke. "You ain't against drinkin' right? I mean, more than passin' a flask 'round?"

"No. I could use some more than a sip at this point, really…"

"Good. We 'aven't 'ad a catch in a while, so I'll send someone to get somethin'. And to celebrate, of course." Scabior began walking to the tent entrance.

"Celebrate what?"

"Your first catch as a Snatcher, little Caden, what else?" She went to go after him, but he stopped her. "You stay in 'ere 'til dinner. I'll 'ave Alec take care of it."

He said nothing else and walked out, leaving her mind to nag her until mealtime.


	10. Chapter 10

**To tide you over until I get finished with everything for finals. I worked on some projects and gave myself some time to write.**

**Forewarning, a little bit of language further in. And drama. And…yeah, you'll find out (definitely wasn't supposed to happen this way, but it'll do).**

**Reviews are wonderful, as always. :)**

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><p>Scabior walked out of the tent, and glanced around for a moment. Two of the men were standing by the tent they had thrown the captives into, listening to any conversation or plans to try and escape. Greyback was nowhere to be seen, which was absolutely fine with him at the moment. Alec and another man were conversing quietly, the former amused by something the other had said.<p>

The leader strode over to Alec, the conversation ceasing at once. So either it had been about him, Caden, or they were simply being respectful.

Scabior preferred to think the last option.

"Where's…?" Alec asked, but Scabior shook his head, telling him to be silent.

"As far as we know, they don't know she's responsible for their little predicament. So, she stays in there 'til dinner, to give the impression that she's a prisoner. You'll make dinner."

Alec's eyes shot between the right and the left for a moment. "Oh! You mean me."

"Yes, you, numpty. You've watched enough times to figure out 'ow to make somethin', surely."

"It's going to taste horrible."

"Yeah, well, there are ways 'round that." Scabior began to walk off, towards the boundaries of the enchantments. "I'll be back later."

Alec watched their leader Disapparate once he was just outside the boundary, and then began to assemble food to prepare.

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><p>He had Apparated back some time later, but he was not as close to camp this time; he had gone into the nearest village and bought a few bottles of firewhiskey, clinking in his extended pockets as he walked along. There was a small bottle that had caught his eye on the top shelf, a dark amber liquid captured inside.<p>

It had been more than he was willing to spend (it was never his money to spend, but their money collectively pooled together for resource sake), but Caden deserved something for putting up with her ex-husband for so long.

She didn't seem bitter, but then again, she had had the shock of seeing him again. It hadn't set in yet.

There would be drama tonight. Headaches. Yelling. No matter what, it was likely to be a disaster in some way.

He sighed, shaking his head as he tried to understand why he was going to let this happen.

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><p>Caden was already outside with the others, waiting until Scabior got back so they could actually eat whatever it was that Alec had made.<p>

She had been patted on the back, jostled around; praised for her ability to keep her cover and get them their next catch. Alec had hugged her, a little longer than she expected, and tried to fix her hair a bit, to make up for ruining it before.

"Oh, you lot waited for me? 'ow kind of you." Scabior threw another log into the fire, sending sparks flying.

Firewhiskey was poured into whatever cups were clean, one of the bottles making its way around the circle until everyone had some. It would make dinner taste far, far better.

"I propose a toast," Alec said, raising his cup. "to Caden. For her extremely wonderful situation, and for getting us some heavier wallets."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as the men declared, "Here, here."

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><p>At some point someone had begun singing. Someone kept a beat. Caden had found herself pulled up by Alec and dancing, something he had not done in years. It didn't matter that it was not a proper dance of any kind; more like the tavern stomping that had gone out of fashion so long ago in Muggle world.<p>

They had stopped to all have another drink, and Scabior had pulled her into his lap. He had been drinking some, but was far from where he could have been. He had to keep his head about him if she got belligerent or silly.

Caden didn't protest to her seat, shifting so she sat comfortably sideways on his thighs. His hand sat at the curve between her waist and her hips, his grip almost possessive. She had an arm around his shoulders for support.

Considering her size and the amount she'd consumed so far, he was surprised she was not passed out yet. She'd have a bad headache tomorrow, to say the very, very least.

An outsider would have mistaken the two of them as good friends, perhaps lovers. There was a flicker of lust in Scabior's eyes that the men knew very well by now. Caden was relaxed within his touch, but that might have just been the liquor.

"Little Cay 'as 'ad quite a little shock, 'asn't she?" Scabior ruffled her hair, and then promptly fixed it so he could see her face. "'er first snatch, an' guess who it is? 'er ex-'usband. 'magine that, boys."

He obliged when she held out her empty glass, into which was poured a tiny bit of alcohol.

She down it instantly. The burning felt so much better compared to the ache in her chest that had swelled in the past few hours. She needed this, or so she told herself. Needed to forget the memories, the shock, the pain.

She didn't shrink away when Scabior buried his nose in her hair, nuzzled her neck. Her mind was too fuzzy to care. Besides, it felt good.

"That's right, Jonny-boy! Look who's laughing now, you arse!"

Scabior removed the bottle from her vicinity as she went to reach for it, handing it off to Alec. Her attempt to pout and get her way was somehow adorable, but she was acting petty.

At the nickname, Jonathan had decided her was brave enough (or rather, stupid enough) to step into the chaos that had ensued; eyes glazed over, laughing, a certain bravery that came with the bottle.

"Caden? So it is you." No venom on his tongue, no hate. Only realization. "I heard them talking, but I didn't think it'd be my Caden tramping around with a bunch of filthy Snatchers."

"I'm not yours. Never was. How could I be yours when you were with her?" Caden gestured to the tent her had just come out of, arm sweeping in an arc, nearly hitting Scabior in the process.

"Caden…"

She got up, pulling herself a little harder when Scabior attempted to keep her next to him. She staggered over to Jonathan, and Scabior would have found the drunk woman so amusing if she wasn't so damn angry.

"Don't. Don't you _dare_ apologize. No words from your filthy mouth could _ever_ fix the damage you've done to me. Your proposal was a lie. Your vows were a sham. You took my money, spent it on that disgusting whore and left me with no way to pay off the house…" Her voice softened, but there was something so terrifying about it. "The day I was served with papers, I was supposed to tell you."

"Tell me what, Caden?" Merlin, how she had missed how tender his voice could be. Not that it mattered now. It couldn't. She wouldn't let it.

"That I was pregnant. But when you're served with papers declaring divorce, I suppose it didn't matter, now did it?"

She might have just punched him in the gut, from the look on Jonathan's face. The rest of the men were quiet. Alec's expression, hard since the blood-traitor had walked out of the confines of canvas, had softened just enough. Scabior's face remained stoic, although a rising need to deck the man in the face was becoming harder to control.

Jonathan almost couldn't breathe as he looked at her for a moment before looking at the ground. He couldn't meet her eyes again. But he could tell that her hips were still the same size.

"Then what…what happened?"

"What usually happens when high stress and pregnancy occur, you dipshit."

They all knew it would happen before it actually did. Jonathan tried to reach for her, mumbling her was sorry. He didn't look nearly as upset as she was; tears glistened on her cheeks. As soon as he laid a finger on her arm, her fist connected with his face. Hard.

Everyone, despite their drunkenness, began to break up the situation before it got worse. Scabior grabbed Caden, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. He had been merely caressing her head, but was unsurprised when she moved closer, as if trying to shrink way her existence.

Jonathan was dragged back into the tent, but not before he caught sight of how close his ex-wife and the Snatcher were. She had gotten him in the cheek, hard, but it didn't impede his speech.

"Is that how it is, then? You with him, now?"

Caden flinched, wanting to beat him to a pulp for assuming things. But her emotions were thin, and there was only so much hatred to live off of. Her stomach was in knots, and she couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"Why is it any business of yours?" Scabior found his tongue, speaking for her. He had turned his head in Jonathan's direction, slowly moving his body and Caden to follow. "Would it bother you if she was?"

"It'd bother me if _any_ woman saw you pieces of dragon dung as desirable."

The head Snatcher raised an eyebrow at him, as if say he was any better. He felt Caden's hands on his chest, stopping just below his shoulders, pressing her body against his. Her reached down and kissed her, careful at first. It turned into a frenzy of lip-biting, of tongues, and a few soft moans.

Jonathan had been tossed into the tent far before they broke apart. The men had dispersed into their respective quarters for the night.

Caden blinked, letting go of him and walking into their shared tent with a hand pressed to her lips, unable to understand anything at the moment.

Scabior, left alone with a dying fire, decided now was just as good a time as any for a walk.


	11. Chapter 11

**Right, so, I pretty much have given up studying for my last final that's in the morning. After that, it's strictly work, and a lot of free time.**

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><p>Caden stopped in the middle of the tent, dumbstruck. Her lips tingled, as if still feeling his lips on hers, a ghost of the real thing. Her tongue still held a lingering taste of him, Firewhiskey, a little bit of tobacco (he smoked? Strange, she never saw him doing so).<p>

So different.

So very different from the kissed she had at Hogwarts, her kisses with Jonathan during her marriage.

Confusion wound itself through her mind. Had he done it on purpose, to get a rise out of Jonathan? To make the situation even more twisted? Perhaps not. Had he honestly meant it, in some small way?

Honesty. Such a strange word for her to choose to describe that. Snatchers and honesty didn't exactly go together.

She had enjoyed it. To say she hadn't would be the biggest lie she'd ever tell herself. Rather, the second, since the first was that her marriage would last.

The kiss had been full of…was passion the right word? Enthusiasm? The men she lived with survived on basic needs: food, water, and sex. She hadn't bothered looking for anyone after. Relationships, contact beyond necessity, it all became so unimportant to her. Scabior had brought everything back to the surface, reminded her of this horrible frustration.

She sighed, her mind growing fuzzy again. Damn alcohol.

Caden curled up in her cot, not bothering to do much except kick off her shoes and throw her pillow over her head.

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><p>Scabior wandered through the forest, knowing his destination but setting a slow pace. It was always more about the walking, letting his thoughts unravel enough and then putting them back in the right order by the time he reached the small lake.<p>

Why had he done that? Stooped down and kissed her? His mind was not clear, but he was aware of his actions.

Was it to spite the man who threw away his wife so carelessly? Scabior was not a believer in the institution of marriage, not really. It seemed archaic to him; did two people have to say "I do," to know they were committed to each other, to prove the loved the other?

Caden had such untapped potential when he met her, and now she was so different. Skilled. With time, she'd be brilliant and one of the best.

She had a purpose. A purpose he had given her.

She was quite pretty, he'd admit. He knew attractive females when he saw them.

But was that really all there was too it? Too much alcohol, frustration, and anger?

Caden had started it, running her hands over his chest like that. He wouldn't mind that again, bare skin on bare skin.

No. _Get a hold of yourself, man_.

He could always play the reminder that she technically belonged to him. If she wanted to work off her debt, he could coerce her beneath him…

No.

He wanted her willingly. Wanted her to agree to it not out of obligation.

She would be too drunk tonight-maybe she wouldn't even remember the kiss in the morning. He would want her to remember any sexual encounter with him; things for awkward otherwise. Not to mention it was a bit of an ego-stroke.

He picked up a stone, rolled it in his hand for a moment. Flat, smooth. He threw it just so, the stone skipping across the water four times before plunking into the depths.

She _was_ attractive.

Another stone.

Smart, too, no doubt. Quiet. The intellectual kind that made you listen when she spoke.

Another.

She seemed so rightly placed in the tent, content. As if she belonged there, with them. With _him_.

Another went skipping across the water.

He wanted her. That much was obvious. He wanted her sober, laying beneath him, eyes dark with desire. He wanted her above him, her locks falling over her face as she moved just right and arched in bliss.

Dear Merlin, this was getting unbearable.

Living together, this was probably inevitable. Natural, on some level. He hadn't had female company in while, hadn't had a proper touch in weeks, perhaps a month even.

Scabior grunted as he threw another stone, the small object flying through the night and landing some distance away with a decent splash.

He sighed, and settled into the decision to start heading back. They needed to be up early, and relatively look sober if they were going to hand them in to the Ministry and deal with the pink lady.

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><p>He quietly entered the tent, the single lantern on the table still going, casting a dim light.<p>

Scabior glanced at Caden's form; back to the rest of the tent, pillow over her head. Hiding.

He sighed softly, and shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto the couch. The scarf followed, and he sat on his bed, undoing his boots and kicking them off, none too quietly.

He'd wait. Patience was not his favorite thing, but he was capable of it when necessary. Wait for her to come to him, begging. Or to just wait for the right moment in general. He had awakened something within her, he knew it (not that it hadn't reminded him of his own needs as well). It was only a matter of time before it took hold of her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Bit of a long chapter. Drama, a tad bit of strong language. This works, yet at the same time, I'm iffy on it, so…  
>I bring back a very minor character for the sake of this chapter. I couldn't have her with Alec, try to keep the drama in the group to a minimal, keep the focus on Scabior and Caden kind of thing...<strong>

**There'll be another update after the holiday. So, have a happy holiday, lovely readers :)**

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><p>He hadn't bothered to sleep. He couldn't. It was nothing a bit of a dreamless sleep draught couldn't fix (or alcohol, but most of it was actually gone), yet it was enough to wake him up trying to suppress blood running to the lower portion of his body. Scabior had taken refuge in a beat-up armchair by the wood stove, and opened Caden's file, in which he'd written notes over the course of the weeks she'd been with them.<p>

At some point in the night, she had removed the pillow from her face, and turned on her side, facing the rest of the tent.

She looked so peaceful. Far from the rightfully angry drunken woman he had seen hours earlier. It wasn't until her brow furled in deep discomfort while she slept that he realized her mind was not at ease either.

Yet he didn't have the heart to wake her.

His blue eyes flicked back to his notes, thinking about what she had revealed earlier. The report only gave the very, very basics of the reason behind the divorce; irreconcilable differences. No mention of a child, a mistress, money going missing.

Although there were clippings of rumors; Caden had come from a decently well-off family, a small fortune left to her when her parents died nearly ten years ago. Speculation was already spreading about why she wore a certain dress, and why she was hardly ever seen at certain events or even at work. Eventually it stopped, but it became increasingly obvious: Caden Allen was broke, divorced, and buried under bills.

Scabior wondered how they would view her now. A woman whose thin frame was beginning to return back to a healthy physique, who wasn't afraid to deck someone in the face if need-be, but was able to make almost any campfire food taste amazing.

Had her hair always been in tangled waves, slightly curly, like they were now?

He closed the folder when he saw a picture of her, a funny shot added to the group in the file; a side-long view with a smile, almost sultry if it wasn't for her bursting out laughing every now and then.

His mind went back to where it always did when things like this happened (not that they happened often, but was it really all that different with the times when they had a very pretty captive that he wouldn't mind shagging). He just needed to distract himself with someone else in the meantime. He could be patient with her, but that didn't mean he couldn't satisfy himself.

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><p>Caden didn't want to open her eyes. Not that she didn't try; she had and felt the room spin as she dared try to get up. She was lying curled up, trying not to let the world win and keep whatever contents of her stomach were left where they belonged.<p>

She caught snippets of the previous night in her mind. Scabior's lap, Jonathan's face, kissing…

Oh, sweet Merlin. Surely she hadn't…

She had. Caden groaned and placed the pillow over her face again. How was she going to live this down? Who had seen it? It had been in front of Jonathan, and even…

They all saw it, too.

Maybe if she didn't get out of bed, they'd forget she existed.

No, that was acting childish. Not to mention create more speculation; they'd all jab each other in the ribs and chuckle about their boss and the girl.

She was about to try and step out of bed again when Alec came in, almost cautiously. As if afraid to catch her in a state of indecency. A wave of nausea hit her, with a strength she hadn't felt since her bachelorette party so many years ago. A number of curses ran through her mind as she stumbled and strong arms caught her under her arms, like a child.

Alec said nothing as she caught her breath, trying not to ruin his shirt. He sat her down on the edge of the bed, her torso swaying to an unheard song. Outside, she heard voices, conversations about what the plans were, if they were splitting up or heading out as a group and which location was first.

He tapped his wand on a stray mug, filling it with water. From his pocket he produced a bottle Scabior had given him; an amber liquid, that seemed to move of its own rhythm within the contents, a thicker, shimmering component swirling around like a captured goldfish.

He was told it was something like an immediate hangover relief potion; it was a difficult potion to brew and even rarer to find in the markets. Just a small swig removed any ailments related to overconsumption of alcohol. A concentrated flask, because of its size and the energy within the bottle.

Pepper-up potion only did so much when it came to hang-overs. Subdued the symptoms, gave you energy, but when the effects wore off, you tended to feel a bit worse than you did in the beginning.

Alec poured a tiny bit of the potion into the water, diluting it but by no means affecting its power. He handed it to her, and she sipped gently, scared to upset her stomach further.

"What'd you put in it?" Her glance was not mistrustful, but wary, as she should be.

"Something Scabior picked up; he said it rids you of a hang-over. Better than a Pepper-Up potion. Concentrated dose, hence the water."

"Water can change almost everything about a potion."

"How else would you dilute anything, Caden?"

"Depends on the potion."

She looked up innocently at him as she sipped again, amused at his frustration. Yeah, she was feeling a bit better.

Alec mockingly shook his fist at her as he began walking away. "Scab wants you ready in ten minutes, we're going over the plan for today."

"Yeah, yeah."

* * *

><p>Nothing had prepared her for the stares she got from the other men. Greyback had a disgustingly amused look in his eyes as she sat next to Alec, pulling her sleeves down and waiting for Scabior to begin speaking.<p>

"Right, so, no doubt a trip to the Ministry is in order to get our Galleons for this lot 'ere. But as it turns out, it's about a few days before Christmas. An' I doubt any of us want to spend Christmas in the woods. So," he turned sharply and walked behind Caden, putting hands on her shoulders, a bit too roughly, "Caden 'ere 'as a 'ouse in the city. It's a pretty big place, room for all of us. So we'll spend the 'oliday in London, boys, and then 'ead back out on a new lead."

Was he kidding? A group of dirty, smelly men and a werewolf living in her house for the next few days? And he didn't _bother_ to ask her first?

No one said anything, obviously picking up on the anger written all over her face.

Another part of her mind was shocked it was so close to the end of the year. All those weeks had turned into months that fast? Damn. Well, at least she'd get to spend it without fretting about making ends meet. Or alone. She'd have company, in a way.

The anger was still taking over. Merely assuming they'd all be welcome in her home…just like a Snatcher to take what he wants rather than ask…

* * *

><p>The Ministry had been uneventful, although it was obvious of the holiday. Despite the new regime, doors had wreathes on them, there were small decorations around.<p>

Jonathan and the others were passed off to the guards, taking them into the courtrooms to be questioned. Her ex-husband gave a final look back at her, her face blank, unreadable, not seeing him.

They were waiting out in the corridor while Scabior spoke to Umbridge, a rag-tag group of people who were acting like school bullies to the passing workers.

She was too angry to even notice much of anything else. She was almost certain someone had said, "Hello, Miss Allen," to her, but she didn't bother to look up.

How had anyone even recognized her? She was dirty, her hair was a mess, and she wasn't as thin as she had been previously (if only by a tiny amount; that her pants stayed up within the belt being on the last notch).

* * *

><p>London was bustling with people, Muggles shopping and singing and bells ringing for donations. They looked like a group of homeless people, but no one gave them hassle about it in the late morning. Caden unlocked the door, and the others followed after Scabior. They were too busy looking around in wonder at the size of the foyer to do much else.<p>

"I've only got four other bedrooms; someone'll have to share." She said, shouldering her pack and heading upstairs to the master bedroom. "And it won't be me. It's my house."

They all split up in different directions, Scabior following her up the stairs and catching up with her in no time.

"Don't forget who 'elped you get this place back, love. If anyone 'as to share, it should be you." There was the silent idea they both secretly shared, the unspoken threat; she should have to share with him.

"I'm already sharing my house. Unwillingly, I might add."

She threw the bag onto her bed, and flicked her wand, clothes flying into piles of dirty and not, as she walked into the attached bathroom.

"Someone can sleep in the living room, then, Scabior. I really don't…just don't fuck the place up, I mean really."

She couldn't look at him. Her back had been to him during the whole conversation, as if she was afraid to meet his eyes. Her memories of last night were full and vibrant; that potion was more than simply a hangover cure. She was remembering what she couldn't because her mind had been too boggled. The memory of the kiss was full and suffocating, bringing back the physical needs she had forgotten about.

She needed a shower.

* * *

><p>When she came downstairs, running fingers and wand over her hair to dry it, she should have known this would have happened.<p>

_Female_ voices. Upstairs and down.

And it wasn't even half-past noon.

Dressed in a cowl-necked green sweater and dark jeans, her feet made no noise on the hardwood (thank Merlin for fuzzy socks and silencing charms) as she stepped back upstairs and checked her room and the bathroom. No one.

She locked her door with a heavier charm, something that couldn't be broken with _Alohomora_. She was not having harlots in her bedroom.

She passed all of the bedrooms; various states of giggling and groaning. Caden rolled her eyes but blew the doors open as she descended.

She found Scabior in the living room, a long-legged, dark-haired woman in his lap.

"I said not to fuck the place up."

"I don't recall you 'avin' the authority to call the shots, Caden."

"_My_ house. Prostitutes are not allowed in my house." Her voice gained volume, a power that Scabior hadn't heard from a woman in his presence. None of them dared.

The woman had stopped nibbling on Scabior's neck long enough to glare at Caden for insulting her profession and was shoved off his lap as he stood up. Striding over to her, he shoved Caden against the wall, his face an inch away from hers.

"Need I remind you who gave you the money, Caden? This may be your 'ouse, but I'm in charge. If I bring women in, you 'ave no say. I essentially own you, but choose to give you freedom." His hand clasped around her neck. "The only thing I would lose by killin' you is a bit o' money, really. I 'aven't 'ad a good shag in a while, so 'ow 'bout you settle into the kitchen or leave the 'ouse, yeah?"

He let go suddenly, turning back and picking up the woman, settling her into his lap again. Caden rubbed her neck, and stalked away. She placed her wand in her holster, out of habit. She had a pair of boots and a coat in the closet by the door; she threw on the pea coat, slid on the boots, and grabbed an old novel from a shelf in the living room before darting out the door.

* * *

><p>She couldn't focus on the words in front of her. She was reading the same line over and over and over again.<p>

Infuriating. Assuming dominance in her domain. Bastard. Scoundrel.

She dog-eared the page and threw the book down on the coffee table in front of her. She had picked a quiet coffeehouse in the Alley, tucked herself into the corner after ordering tea and had plans of staying for the next few hours. The sound her book had earned her a glance or two, but a glare back sent them looking at their own cups or reading material.

She took a long drink from the cup, wishing for there to be something far stronger in it instead. Since when had she turned to alcohol for her problems? Oh, right, ever since she decided this whole situation was a good idea.

"I thought I saw you earlier, Miss Allen." The tone was formal, but assured, as if he had needed to be convinced of something. "Enjoying your new profession?"

She looked up to find the man who had doubted her months ago. Mr. Bane, responsible for trying to sell her house while she resided in it. His hair was severely parted, as it had been when they had last met. He looked a bit worse for wear, but that came with any job at the Ministry.

"If I said yes, it'd be a lie. But if I said no, that'd be a lie as well, Mr. Bane." She had not forgotten her manners, and gestured to the armchair across from her. "It's better than being in the Ministry every day."

"You look better. The outdoors have done you good."

"If you mean they've taught me not to take showers and true meals for granted, then yes."

"How I've missed your sarcasm, Miss Allen." Caden merely grinned at the reply, earning a small smile from the Ministry man across from her. "I meant that you look well."

"I know; I was messing with you." She couldn't wipe the grin off of her face.

They sat in silence, Caden drinking her tea and placing it atop the novel.

"What brings you out away from your little gang, then?" He asked, glancing around. "I don't see plaid pants or hunting caps around."

"Long story."

"Surely not so extensive?"

"Scabior decided to bring prostitutes into my home. Decided it was a good idea for us to stay in London but never asked if I minded if we didn't bother paying and just used my place. I'm more really pissed about the whores, but…"

"They don't ask for things, Caden. They're vagabonds, wands for hire. Criminals. If you thought you'd get a "Do you mind if…?" you're sorely mistaken. It's a shame you chose that way to live to get through, I will admit. I heard Jonathan's name in passing, they caught him. Was that you as well?"

"Entirely the reason for our stop into London, yes. Extremely ironic."

"Amusing, to the say the least."

More silence.

"If you don't want to return home, I would not mind having company for dinner."

Caden was taken aback. "No, no, I'm fine, really. I don't…I'm fine."

"I insist."

A disarming smile and an offered hand to help her up. Why not? Nothing much was awaiting her anyway.

* * *

><p>She found herself in a bed that was not her own. Her clothes were strewn all over. No pounding headache, no upset stomach. Sober. She was sober, and she had…<p>

She recalled her evening; dinner, a quiet affair. She refused wine, taking instead a glass of water. No drinking. She was not going to have another issue with _that_. They talked, of anything, really. Random topics. People. Quietly, of course, as there were other Ministry people around. At one point they had every intention of heading separate ways. Maybe it was the frustration Scabior had awoke in her, maybe it simply having been offered an actual meal she hadn't had to make. A turn of her head at the last second resulted in a small peck, that built up into her second actual decent kiss in twenty-four hours.

She had complied going back to his place, remembered how good it felt to have hands run up her thighs, to arch in bliss and feel satisfied.

That had been hours ago. It was dark out, bells ringing in the distance. Eleven o'clock.

A hand was tracing circles on her lower back, fingers that had never known hard labor, used to pens and papers. A body pressed against hers from behind, lips kissing her shoulder to her neck, teeth grazing her ear.

Neither of them said anything as she rolled over and straddled him, running her hands through his disheveled blonde hair and beginning again.

* * *

><p>She quietly slipped into the foyer, closing the door behind her. Bane had insisted on walking her home; it was on the way to the Ministry anyway.<p>

Her hips felt looser, her mind felt hazy but in the good way.

"An' where've you been?" Scabior had rolled off the couch in the adjacent room. "I waited up. We 'ad to 'ead to the Leaky Caldron to get food 'cause you weren't 'ere. Not that there's food in the cupboards anyway for you to use…"

Caden merely looked at him, staring wide-eyed, like an owl.

"Now let's see. Disheveled 'air, sweater all wrinkled, a faint scent of aftershave, your walk…oh, love, and you condemned me for screwin' a whore…" Alcohol laced his morning breath, and she held back the urge to roll her eyes.

"Who I spent my night with is none of your business."

"It was someone with a bit of money, wasn't it? That aftershave ain't cheap."

"Shut up."

"An' 'e walked you 'ome, I saw. Kissed you goodbye. 'ow sweet. A snatcher and a Ministry man. I wonder 'ow that'll work out."

Caden reacted before she could think. Her fist connected his with nose, earning a sharp cracking sound.

"It was nothing. You spoke of needing a good shag, I got one myself."

Scabior's groaning didn't cover her angry footsteps, her good mood and satisfaction ruined.


	13. Chapter 13

**Two updates today. ;) After this chapter (for obvious reasons), I will be upping the rating to M. So…  
>Hope everyone had a good holiday, and leave a review. I'll get the next chapter up soon.<strong>

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><p>Good mood gone, Caden tried to get her mind off of anything related to her actions with…she didn't even know whether to call him by first or last name. It was one thing to be lying there, moaning the other's name out of sheer pleasure. But they had gotten too intimate for last names, but did not have the emotional closeness for a first-name basis.<p>

If she never saw him again, problem solved. But she would have to head to the Ministry with the others and chances were they'd see each other.

She had always hated him, on some level. Justified because he was taking away the last thing she had left of a shattered marriage, of a well-off life. Something she no longer had, really. She was different, and anyone from her past, from Hogwarts or work, would notice that. If they even recognized her.

But yes, her hate had been justified. With the last of her mortgage and interest gone, though, there was no more reason to go on loathing him. He had been quite nice at dinner; she almost forgot that they had once been client and businessman. It was strange to hear him talk of other things from outside the Ministry, watch a smile form itself on his lips as he spoke of a play he had seen with a few friends (it shocked her that he had friends, but she supposed that was from her skewed point of view). She was reminded of the capabilities of good conversation, actually being passionate about something. Something better than drinking around a campfire and sharing stories; although that had its perks too.

Caden sank lower into the armchair of the small study. She told herself it was just dinner and a shag, a very necessary shag. Wasn't that how Snatchers thought, basic needs and all that?

But then again, was she really a Snatcher? She'd caught one group. That's it. She'd have to prove herself far more capable in order to make the money to pay back Scabior.

She had made comparisons as she laid in bed that night, sleep threatening to crash in but never doing so. Scabior's kiss had been one of skill, energy. But to say that Bane's had not been would be false. She had enjoyed both, yet the latter had given her more. Had she asked, maybe Scabior would have obliged her.

She found the nearest book and threw it across the room, where it landed with a thud. This was infuriating. She couldn't possibly find her boss attractive; she shouldn't want to tug on that scarf and yank him down and kiss him. She couldn't possibly think Bane would ever want to see her again after giving herself to him so easily.

A much louder din came from downstairs, startling her and directing her anger away from herself and towards the men downstairs. Caden bolted up from the chair and headed down the corridor and down the stairs, stopping halfway down.

A large pine tree had been dragged into her house, and now laid on the foyer floor. Scabior stood, brushing his hands together and getting pine needles at his feet.

Her shoulders fell and she headed back up into the study. She didn't have the energy to do this.

* * *

><p>Alec had found her some time later, sitting in a chair and reading, trying to keep her mind busy. He held a steaming cup of tea, and placed it on the table next to her.<p>

"Missed you last night at dinner. Where'd you go?"

"Out."

"Obviously. Who was he?"

Caden rolled her eyes and closed the book. "Why is everyone concerned about my activities? Does it really matter?"

"No, but Scab wasn't happy."

"As if his happiness is my number one concern."

Alec wrenched the book out of her hands, and swatted her in the head. She looked at him with a surprised expression, silently asking if he was crazy.

"Everyone can figure it out except you two. I ask him and he denies being jealous. That kiss that _we all saw_ was not some show for your ex-husband, and you know it."

"Repressed sexual desire on both our parts, Alec. Not for each other, merely in general." She turned her head back to the window, refusing to look at him. "What the hell is he doing downstairs, anyway?"

"Said it's not Christmas without a proper tree. That he's not asking you to do anything might be his way of apologizing for picking your house as a rest-stop without asking. He knows you're angry. Well…"

"If you say he thinks I'm jealous, I will not hesitate to hurt you."

"Will you at least tell me who it was? I heard Scabior mutter something about him walking you home or something. Someone from the Ministry?"

Caden sighed, realizing he wasn't going to leave until he got an answer. If Scabior sent Alec to try and get an answer out of her, this was pathetic.

"Quentin Bane. He used to be the Ministry agent handling my…situation. He was supposed to try and sell my house because I couldn't afford it anymore. And then Scabior offered me money and I'd work off my deal with him by Snatching."

Alec said nothing. She didn't expect him to, really. The book he still held made contact with her head again twice more.

"The hell was that for?"

"You know what it's for. It's for several things. You shagged a man who might actually be able to give you a future outside of this life on the first date? You shagged the man you used to be a client of? I mean, kudos to you, but do you think he'd ever be able to see you as more than…"

"Shut it, Alec. I already know that train of thought."

Silence grew between them for a moment.

"Very different from Scabior."

"Very different from Jonathan, too."

A large hand rubbed her head gently in the spot he playfully hit her.

"Drink it while it's hot, would you?"

She nodded, and he pressed the book back into her hands before he left.

* * *

><p>She had come to the conclusion she didn't have to pick, not right now. Best to just see how everything worked out.<p>

Someone had bothered to pick up food, and having nothing better to do, Caden set herself to making dinner; an actual meal. One that took hours to make and one she thought had better be damn appreciated. She had stopped for a moment, trying to think of anything else that needed to be done before placing everything out. She heard clamoring in the other room, and decided now was best to get the food on the table.

The meal passed in a flurry of loud conversation, drinks and multiple helpings. There was nothing left of the bird she had cooked, surprisingly enough. Then again, actual meal and hungry men. She should have expected such.

She would catch Scabior's eyes on her now and then; a penetrating stare, the kind he used when tracking, when dealing with prey. It was almost frightening to be on the receiving end of it. And yet she felt her body react, bringing back what it was like to be close to him, kissing him.

Caden had darted into the kitchen with every intention of cleaning up. Mostly to avoid contact. She couldn't…take it, the staring, the desire that decided to come back to the forefront of her mind. She stood at the sink, looking out the window for a moment, not seeing the pile of dirty dishes and pans.

She had heard quiet footsteps, practiced and cautious, but didn't react. It wasn't until she found herself being pressed between the counter and a body that she tensed up, hot breath on her neck.

"So this is where you've been 'idin'."

She felt hands run down her sides, rest on her hips. A nose teased the skin behind her ear, lips grazed her skin.

"I thought I could 'old out, wait. Wait for you to come to me, maybe, I dunno. We both know there was somethin' behind the other night. More than wantin' to put on a good show. But I can't, Caden. Knowin' you were wit' someone else now, I want you." He tilted her head to have access to her whole neck. He nipped and sucked at the skin, listening to her soft moans she was trying to hold in. "I want you. Tonight. All night."

He spun her around, ducking down and capturing her lips, long and hard. He dragged his teeth across her bottom lip, biting for a moment.

"I'll be waitin', love."

He left her swollen-lipped and breathing heavy, desire churning in her lower belly. Damn it all.


	14. Chapter 14

**And here's the next one. Really short, but it's the reason for the rating going up. **

* * *

><p>She half-expected him to be in her room when she went upstairs some time later; she took the chance to shower quickly. Caden wished the cold water had done some good, but it did little to distract her. She still felt the need, the ache between her legs becoming more and more unbearable.<p>

Last night had sated her, but only for so long.

She tossed on underwear, the lacy kind she had never gotten to wear, and an old tee shirt that came mid-thigh. It was coming off anyway, what the hell did it matter?

She opened the door and found Scabior sitting on the edge of the other side of the bed, boots kicked off, jacket on one of the posters of the bed. His back was to her. She crawled across the bed, putting her arms around his shoulders and sucking at his neck.

"Was wonderin' where you were. Bad 'abit, you 'idin' from me."

She gave a moan as a reply, busying herself with his scarf and vest. He protested as she was about to toss the scarf on the floor, tucking it under the pillows of the bed. He had intentions with it.

He had pulled away from her and joined her on the bed, dominating her mouth, pressing his body onto hers as his tongue massaged hers, earning a few moans from her. He ran a calloused hand up her calf, up her thigh, stopping when it reached the hem of the shirt. He pulled it up over her head. Thinking it only fair, she removed his shirt as well.

"Beautiful," he murmured into her mouth, trailing his lips down her neck, over her collar bone to her breasts.

He kissed the tender flesh, sucking one and kneading the other with his warm hand. He bit down just so, resulting in a gasp escaping her lips. He switched, his other hand tracing her side and the lower line of her panties, teasing her inner thigh. He rubbed her through the thin fabric, her hips bucking against his, wanting more.

He chuckled, tugging on the fabric and pulling it down her legs, tossing it behind him. Caden's hand worked his belt, pushing his pants down just enough to give her access. He kicked them off the rest of the way.

Scabior hissed as her fingers danced across his member, teasing him, stroking him. She gripped him, beginning a rhythm. He entered her with two fingers, keeping the same pace.

Her breathing became faster, and the way she almost begged for him to enter her again told him she was close. He removed his fingers, and she released her grip on him.

She moaned as he kissed her again, positioning himself at her entrance, feeling her warmth already. He thrust in all the once, her body arching up and a loud gasp escaping her lips. He pulled out and entered her again, keeping her lips close to his, nipping at him. His pace was agonizingly slow, on purpose, teasing her.

Caden gave a low hiss of frustration that turned into a gasp of pleasure as he picked up his pace, thrusting harder. He bumped her cervix occasionally, causing her to bite his lip in reply.

She twisted her leg around his, giving her leverage to flip him onto his back. She placed her hands on his chest and continued the pace, lowering herself onto him. He was content with the sight, to be certain, her lips parted, eyes closed. He bit his lip as he tried to hold on to his release as long as he could.

Eventually, he felt the need to control the pace again, hold her hips and watch her writhe beneath him. He grabbed her hips and raised his upper body; she wrapped her legs around his torso as her back met the bed again.

She felt the familiar pressure in her lower stomach building up, and began moaning louder and more frequently.

"Say my name, Caden." He grunted, kissing her quickly as he thrust faster, harder, feeling his own release building.

"Scabior," she murmured, nipping his ear, arching against him.

"Louder." A thrust, another gasp.

"Scabior," she moaned, more volume than before.

"Not loud enough." He gritted his teeth, wanting to hear her scream before his peak.

He thrust a final time, and she cried out of his name, followed by a few loud moans as she came, her walls tightening around him. He grunted, releasing within her.

He withdrew, and she untangled her legs from his waist, curling up on her side.

Her fingers trailed along his torso, nails grazing his skin occasionally. "Again," she whispered. "Again, again, again…" Her lips found warm skin, teasing him.

"That what you said to 'im?"

"Mmm. We had more than one round, if that's what you mean. He _was_ good."

Scabior growled, rolling on top of her and pulling the scarf from where he hid it. "Time to put this to good use. You won't be sayin' that for much longer."


	15. Chapter 15

**And hopefully what is a longer chapter to tide you guys over-I'm headed on a small vacation before classes kick in again. So, thus, no internet (not that I won't be writing; that's why I own journals). **

**This is going to start heading into canon plot territory; they will eventually capture the Trio, head to the Manor, etc. **

**I want to thank those of you who reviewed, faved, added this to their alerts lists thus far. It makes me happy to see all of them, to know people are reading. :)**

* * *

><p>Sometime during the night, Scabior had pulled her to him, his chest resting against her back. She had fallen asleep with the lull of the rhythm of his breathing.<p>

Or so she assumed, considering she had woken up on her side, curled up with arms encircled around her waist.

One simply movement, a tiny shift of her legs, had caused a disturbance and he tightened his hold, preventing her from getting up. She was pressed further to his chest, reminded of a stubborn child that refused to let go of a favorite toy.

Toy. How fitting.

It was good. So very good. Her wrists bore marks from the scarf, but she hardly minded. Two of many bruises, lined with tiny red teeth marks. Dear Merlin, she missed what it was like to actually have a man desire her, want her, not out of duty but out of actual attraction on some level.

This couldn't last. Everything had to come to an end. The war. The snatching.

Caden bit her lip. It was too early to be having these thoughts. Wrong time of the year, too. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

She shifted her body, turning so that she faced Scabior rather than the wall. It had been enough to wake him, just so, blue eyes barely open, blinking for a moment. He found brown eyes staring back at him for a moment, felt lips pressed to his own briefly. Caden had curled up again, tangled their legs together and was using his torso as a pillow until further notice.

"I know you ain't really asleep anymore." Scabior mumbled into her hair, nudging her with his nose, reminiscent of a pup. "You're breathin' too fast."

Caden groaned quietly.

"You plan on seein' 'im again, then?"

"Not at the moment, no. I'm not really thinking about the future, Scabior. Pointless, when you think about it, since our lives depends on who wins. Courting isn't really my main objective right now."

"Now you're thinkin' like a Snatcher. A bit of a gloomy one, but you're gettin' it."

"Mmm, I try."

In one swift move, Caden had attempted to steal the blanket she had hunkered down under, the one that was lazily draped over Scabior's lower half. He had caught her, but the force had been enough for her to end up pinned underneath him again. He started nibbling on the curve of her neck, teasing her.

"An' where do you think you're goin'?"

"I _was_ going to shower."

He pulled back, giving her a confused expression.

"Again?"

"You're more than welcome to join me. You look like you could use one." She wore a cheeky smile that grew wider when he looked extremely offended.

"Oh, that's it." He rolled over, taking the rest of the blanket with him as Caden whined in protest. "You wound me, little Caden."

She got up and followed him, grabbing a corner of the blanket and twirling, wrapping herself again and ending up pressing her body against his.

"You clearly haven't seen the bite marks you gave me."

He ducked down, and captured her mouth with his, his grip on the blanket loosening in favor of running his hands over her body again. She was completely at his mercy, he realized-he traced circles down her side, taking note of the shiver that ran down her spine.

"Shower, you said?"

His hand fell lower, running a finger up her inner thigh, grazing her entrance. She gasped, but managed to find her tongue.

"Two minutes."

She went to break away, and take the blanket with her as a final triumph, but she could it difficult to leave the warmth of the blanket and him. She expected a cheeky comeback about her lack of movement towards the attached room, but got nothing, save a feather-light brush of lips on hers.

There was a knock at the door, startling her more than Scabior. For the sake of whatever modesty she had left, she pushed closer to him and pulled the blanket over her shoulders as Alec popped his head in.

"Breakfast's ready." He had seemed unfazed for a moment at the sight of his boss and his friend standing in only a blanket. Then again, they had been living in close quarters, and had walked in on each other more than once. Caden, however, felt her face heat up.

"Be down a few," was Scabior's reply with a tone of finality, to which Alec promptly shut the door.

They stood there for a moment, still looking at the door.

"Yeah, he killed it." Caden used Scabior's distraction to take back the blanket, leaving him in nothing as she went into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>There was little to do, despite the holiday spirits that seemed to run rampant throughout the city surrounding the house. The head snatcher had pulled back a curtain a tiny bit to glimpse out into the streets. Muggles. She lived among Muggles. Granted, it was extremely difficult <em>not<em> to, unless one lived in Godric's Hollow or the Alley-Diagon or Knockturn.

Scabior had occupied himself by spreading out papers and making notes, searching for their next lead in the living room. He was hunched over the coffee table, too immersed in the typed words in front of him. The Taboo has not kicked in, not in a while. Runaways were getting smarter. Good for them.

He had heard the sound of soft footsteps, not having to look up to know who it was. A mug was placed on a clear space of table, steaming and full of a dark liquid, identifiable by the mere smell. Coffee. He grunted in thanks, still feeling her presence even though she had left the corner of his eye. More sounds, quiet, of course, told him she had grabbed a book and curled up in the armchair in the corner.

He glanced up, carefully, as if to examine a paper further away and cast his eyes on her. She was lounging, elbows on one arm, legs dangling over the other. Brown locks tied up in a hurry.

They continued to read on in silence, not awkward but comfortable, uninterrupted.

* * *

><p>Greyback had graced them with his presence later that evening, after an early supper; he had found it intolerable to be inside for so long, and took it upon himself to do some field work. He did not like being in Scabior's presence longer than necessary, finding the human a poor excuse of a leader. It had not escaped his knowledge that something had happened between his 'boss' and the girl-she was comfortable with the hand that was entwined around her waist, the nuzzling at the neck; an exposed collarbone showed bruises from biting.<p>

No one was fazed. They must have _heard_ them, then.

"Find anythin'?" Scabior asked as he realized the werewolf had come back, hopefully with something to go on.

Greyback pulled a scarf from his pocket, pink and purple and dirty.

"Tied around a tree. A sign. Obviously from a female, and with just a trace of a scent. It's been out a while, a few weeks tops." Greyback plucked a man from the large armchair and shoved him away, taking the now unoccupied seat as he flung the garment onto the table.

Scabior's eyes narrowed. A few weeks, tops; surely not around the same time that lovely scent had graced his nostrils. Not something Caden had been out for; they had found only one excuse for a runaway, and their trouble was barely acknowledged by the Ministry, a tiny bit of gold. Vanilla, but not the kind found in a kitchen; slightly musky, with a natural scent of something feminine. Had this scarf belonged to that wonderful smelling creature?

He knew it would carry the smell of the forest; rain, dirt, animal, greenery. He reached for it, and put it to his nose, searching. There _had_ to be a trace of _something_, anything except the woods.

It was there, but just barely. So faint even he nearly tossed it aside without a second thought.

"Do you remember where you found it?"

Greyback's expression said it all, as if he really needed to ask.

"It's familiar, 'ardly there anymore, but…tied to a tree, you said?"

"It was meant to be found. To say she was there, that she might come back."

Scabior hummed in agreement, thoughts racing again.

"We set out the day after tomorrow."

The men didn't stick around much longer after that, dispersing and finding their own thing to occupy themselves again. Greyback, too, got up and began making his way to the kitchen, knowing he'd find something to fill his stomach on, even if it wasn't what he really wanted at the moment.

The scarf had set her on edge; who the hell thought it would be a good idea to leave a scarf as a sign for someone? That was a daft idea. Because of this whole scenario. The wrong people would find it.

Stupid girl.

Scabior was almost infatuated with the trace of the scent, running the fabric through his fingers, staring across the room at nothing in particular. She was going to get nothing else out of him now. He was fixated.

She laid her lips on his scruffy cheek, resigned to the fact that her bed would remain empty tonight. Not so different from the other holidays in previous years.

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><p>They had gone out when he said they would. The group had landed on a hill, taking a moment to rebalance and readjust packs before moving again. Caden had stopped bothering trying to stay close to Scabior on the trek, and fell back to Alec's side. She wasn't going to make a big thing out of it. That was unnecessary, and she had accepted some strange notion that this was just how it worked being a Snatcher. 'It' being any sort of relationship, carnal or otherwise. The work came first; work meant gold to have food and shelter and clothing.<p>

Tents were pitched, a fire built. Caden threw together something made of rabbit, and ate in silence. They were all missing the warmth of an actual bed, real walls around them.

She had stayed, bearing the cold to read by the dying fire. She did not want to go into the tent. The tent meant competing for attention, and she was so very sick of that.

Scabior found it unbearable again. What little was left of that scent drove him mad. He wanted to know what the woman who wore such a smell looked like, wanted to drown in it, if it were possible. His mind kept going back to Caden, how utterly…wonderful she had been. He wanted the little vixen that owned the scarf, of that he was sure. But he wouldn't mind having more of Caden, either. She was there, after all. All this frustration was getting to him, built up in such a short period of time.

He growled to himself, skulking out of the tent and finding only her sitting there. Alone, in the cold winter night.

Before he could realize what he was doing, he wrenched the book from her hands and tossed it aside, yanking her to her feet. Before she could vocalize a single thought, he kissed her fully, longingly. His tongue sought hers, his teeth nipping at her lip. His hands had positioned themselves on her waist, pulling her to him, holding her there, reminding himself she was real and there.

He broke off, grabbing her wrist roughly and taking her out of the campsite, into the surrounding woods. Glancing back, he decided they were far enough away and kissed her again, shoving her jacket from shoulders, yanking her shirt over her head. She kicked off her shoes, allowed him to unbutton her jeans, push them from her hips. Caden stepped out of them as she treated his clothes in the same manner, dipping her fingers teasingly below his belt.

She found herself pressed against a tree, the bark rough and scathing as he pinned her there. He stripped her of her underwear as she undid his pants, pushing them past his hips. Hands grabbed her thighs, lifting her before bringing her down upon him quickly, harshly. Caden moaned in response to his hissed intake of breath, relieved but far from release. He drove into her hard, burying himself into her as deep as he could each time. Her nails dug into his back as he kept her pinned to the tree, one hand grabbing her hair and tangling his fingers in it, pulling just hard enough.

She came with a sharp cry that accompanied his name, and he followed soon after, growling her name in turn. They stayed there for a moment, her back still against the tree, Scabior still inside her. He withdrew, steadying her on her feet, her knees wanting to buckle beneath her.

They didn't speak as they redressed, looking somewhat presentable to whoever might have stepped out of their tents when they arrived back. He had watched her undress and ready for bed as he sat on the edge of his own cot, seeing the marks on her back from the tree, red and so obvious. She met his eyes as she pulled a thermal over her head, and he gestured for her to come over. Rather than taking a space next to him, Caden straddled his lap.

"Didn't mean to be so rough, love. Needed to be a bit less frustrated."

She gave him a quick kiss in reply. "Didn't mind. Never fucked with my back to a tree."

A trademark smirk tugged at his lips, hands gripping her thighs, pressing her to him. "Glad I could be of service. C'mon, stuff to do in the mornin'." He shifted, placing her on the bed beneath him. He kissed her, rolled over, and took the other half of the bed before wrapping am arm around her waist and pulling her against him.


	16. Chapter 16

**And another update. I'll leave a note at the bottom regarding something, rather than up here…**

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><p>Caden darted through the woods, tossing a jinx at the group on her left. It grazed the boy's shoulder, but did little actual damage.<p>

Damn.

She hissed a string of curses, and pushed herself harder, deciding to cut the kids off. She leapt over a tree trunk that suffered a hit from a stray spell. Circling around, she landed a stunning spell directly at one of their chests. He crumpled to the ground, another tackled by Alec. Greyback had caught another, the boy thrashing in the werewolf's arms.

There were originally four of them. One had gotten away.

They went through the usual spiel; names, trying to find them, and then coercing them to give their real names, sometimes beating it out of them. She had stayed in the background, rather than participating in this behavior.

She could say it would take away what little of herself she had preserved. She was not violent. She did what was required of her, and what Scabior needed her to. He did not need her to beat the living shit out of the kids. There were guys who actually got a kick out of it to do it in her stead.

An afternoon catch; they'd get their pay the same day this time. Although there would be no promises of taverns and inns and ladies to share beds with. Scabior was still intent on finding the scarf's owner. He'd long since tied it around his own neck and would play with it when he was thinking or bored or fidgety

She paid no mind to it.

One of the boys was shoved to her, and she bound his arms, took his wand and followed the rest to a safe point of Apparation.

* * *

><p>She had been hoping to avoid coming to the Ministry herself. Mostly because of Bane. It created doubt in her mind, what she wanted.<p>

She hated that feeling.

Bane could give her the security of having a stable income and house and good standing. He was handsome and kind, regardless of how she had treated him previously, a feat in itself. He could grow on her, and intellectual conversation would not be lacking. There was little chance of him getting himself landed in Azkaban.

Scabior, on the other hand…he may not be the best choice, the most logical. Many would say the reason that would keep them together would be sex. He was kind in his own way, but clearly Azkaban had done its work. Should they managed to lay low, under the hypothetical that Potter won, they would have it harder; money would be tight, food would be scarce. And while she had it a bit rougher than usual when she was broke, that was another level.

This was under the assumption Bane even wanted anything else to do with her. And assuming was a horrible thing to do.

They were left to wait outside Umbridge's office once the prisoners were relinquished to the guards, taken down to the courtrooms, or Azkaban if there was no room left. It was back to the rag-tag group messing around with scary faces or tripping spells. Childish, really. She remained impassive, staring at the wall in front of her when something caught her attention in the corner of her eye. Papers strewn around, meticulous suit and robes, hair tidy, expression tight. He was having a bad day, despite the indications of being put-together. She had faced him on such occasions, but there was little she could do when she had no money.

Mentally chastising herself, Caden pushed herself off the wall and went over to him, bending down and gathering papers, siphoning them clean if need be.

"How are you, Miss Allen?" A brief glance up at her, before shoving his papers into a pile and into his leather case.

"Quite fine, sir." She took his offered hand to help her up. "I trust you're well?"

"Always. Will you be in London long?"

Out of an old habit, one she thought had long since left her, she lightly brushed off his robes at the shoulders and collar, finding a bit of dirt due to meeting with the ground.

"No. We're still on another trail, supposedly, so we're taking our money and heading back out again." She made a face, one unseen by the others behind her, showing her displeasure.

"Perhaps next time. I was going to suggest dinner, but if you must leave…"

She hesitated for a moment, knowing there was something that needed to be said, clarified. "That night, that wasn't…it shouldn't have…gone that far. Not that…" She ran a hand over his robe collar, adjusting it, "I wouldn't, but I do not want you to expect me to crawl into your bed every time."

His free hand took her wrist, removing her hand from his robes, but kept hold of it, the way one would with their thumb over the other's fingers, a formal gesture. He leaned down to her ear, to the side that the other's could not see. "I was _only_ going to suggest a meal, Caden. I would never expect that kind of behavior in return. I would not mind, but there is always more than that." He cast his eyes up for a moment, catching Scabior's figure walking out of Umbridge's office. "Next time you're in London, then."

He left a lingering kiss on her cheek, and her hand. "Good luck finding your next catch, Miss Allen."

"Thank you."

"Oi, Caden, let's go!" Scabior called, setting his eyes not on her but on the man in front of her with a hard glare.

She walked past him, catching up to the others. She had kept her face blank, or attempted to, but he did not miss the slight smile on her lips that vanished with other thoughts.

Looking back at the other man (mentally applauding her for the guts to screw her old Ministry agent), he was not given a glare in return. There was no battle of dominance, there would be no confrontation over her. Either Bane knew the inevitable (that she'd end up in Azkaban should things go pear-shaped, that maybe she'd die), or that it was her choice, in the end. The Ministry man's eyes were on her retreating figure, but not out of lust; the snatcher saw a flicker of concern, of longing, before he turned away and began to head off to where he needed to be.

It did anger him, in the way that it gripped, twisted and turned in his gut and ruined whatever appetite he could have had, to know someone else wanted her. He had been jealous that morning, and acted accordingly, and seemingly won, considering it was his bed she was always in. But now was not the time for musings on anything except tonight and anything not related to moving closer to another catch. He'd ponder and maybe question her another time.

Scabior slowly turned and walked towards the group, who had been waiting around the corner for him, wondering what the hell their boss was up to.

He walked past her, and they shared a glance for a brief moment; her brown eyes a bit wider than they had been, a silent question of 'what?' She could try and hide it all she wanted. If she was not bothered, she wouldn't have given him such a defensive look, as innocent as it seemed. Yes, she was conflicted again. He might attempt to change that later.

Caden bit her lip once his back was to her as he stepped ahead, trying to stop the cursing and comparisons in her mind. Alec nudged her in the ribs with an elbow, grinning at her and moving his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, shush." She hissed, playfully shoving him back and grinning slightly. "He just wanted to ask me to dinner."

"Mmm. Sure. He's sweet on you."

"He wasn't when I owed him money."

"Maybe he was and you never knew. Now that you're no longer his client…"

She reached out an arm and slapped the back of his head. "Stop it." At his aghast expression, her eyes softened and grew a tad wider as she murmured, "Please."

Alec nodded, ruffling her hair, but noticing that she failed to smile or glare at him.

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><p><strong>Edited a bit; Nelle07 brought up a point, and I went through and was like, "Yeah, that's...why is that there...?" And I'm not sure this is much better, but...<strong>

**Right, so, I've actually had a plot point that comes after the Manor, but before the Battle. Originally, it was not what I have in mind as of now; same premise, more details. **

**And the whole Caden/Bane thing could be one of those minor points that happen and are then shoved aside. And I do not intend to expand on it in terms of showing them together-that's done, he'll be mentioned. **

**It's difficult to explain without giving too much away…but Scabior will realize after certain events at the Manor that he does care for Caden. And given the option of helping at the Battle to sort of clear the shame associated with his group (capturing Harry and then their escape obviously kind of ruins whatever 'good' reputation they had), he comes to the conclusion that he does not want Caden there, for her own safety (or in the least, for her to not see him hurt or watch him die). So, he begins to take precautionary measures.**

**And that's all I'm going to say, because I've probably given too much for my own good anyway. Reviews are welcome, feel free to hit up the Tumblr if you so wish.**


	17. Chapter 17

**And the next chapter. :) I'll stick a note at the bottom again instead.**

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><p>It had happened suddenly, the tug that began at the navel and twisted their beings the way Side-Along Apparation did to an unprepared traveler. One moment tramping through the woods, and the next, realizing the only possibility.<p>

The Taboo.

Caden have experienced it before, once or twice. The first time, she had not expected it; no one had told her that uttering the Dark Lord's name would call them. In her confusion, someone had taken advantage and punched her in the gut and tossed her out of his way before she could catch on.

No one had done it in so long. Months of having to rely on tracking and hints. They had been getting smart about it, especially those in the so-called Order of the Phoenix, or anyone supporting the teenager they thought would be able to stop all of this.

It was chaos. Pure and frightening. Their actions simply out of scaring the ones who dared think they were brave enough to use the name. Some tried what the Death Eaters had done the previous year, black clouds of smoke and destruction enwrapping them, obliterating the home. She had kept to the ground, entering the house and wondering who said it or who else was there.

Only a desperate father who wanted his daughter back.

The ones he was harboring were the bargaining pieces; they had to have been pretty damn good ones to pull a stunt like that. They had Apparated away as soon as they could, and she had caught a glimpse of _something_ in their arguing with the deranged man. The tiny bit of energy that was left over was enough to figure out where they had gone, and nor she or Scabior was surprised when they ended up where the scarf was found.

They were clearly shocked at having been followed; they had quickly realized they were surrounded by a rag-tag bunch of hunters. The girl was startled as she realized the Snatcher had gotten her scarf and not the intended recipient. She stumbled back as Scabior murmured, "'ello, beautiful."

Caden wanted to find it so amusing, her lips wanting to form a smile and let out a laugh. This would be thrilling, a part of her knew. A proper chase. Her real job. The three kids got a few seconds' head start, nothing that would really save them, in the end.

"Well, don't 'ang about! Snatch 'em!"

They didn't need to be told twice.

Darting through trees, sliding on leaves that crunched under foot. The ground exploded as hexes were tossed back and forth, spewing dirt and debris. The occasional one actually hit. Through a cluster of down trees, leaping over logs or running on them, over their prey. Caden took an _Incarcerous_ spell to her legs, a lucky hit of _Stupefy_ catching her after she fell. Fuck.

Alec had run past her, silently breaking the spells as he dashed past in a blur. She had caught Scabior glancing at her for a second as he continued on; a glimpse of concern, but there was no stopping now.

Caden caught up just in time to find that a few had been smart enough to break off and find a faster route down the slope, cutting them off. The girl was grabbed roughly, and one of the boys picked up, face swollen beyond recognition. The ginger opened his mouth, hoping to protect the girl who was valiantly struggling but would have to admit defeat.

Scabior sauntered down the hill, and Caden hadn't missed a bit of him trying to stop running, slipping on the leaves in the process.

He caught sight of the boy that Greyback was holding. Had to be a Stinging Jinx. He wasn't an idiot. Why hex the face? Meant he was easy to identify without a name.

"What 'appened to you, ugly?" His remark earned him a glance from both the captive and Greyback, who he pointed at and stated the obvious, "No, not you. What's your name?"

The swollen lips were clearly a hindrance for him, "Dudley. Vernon Dudley."

"Check it!" Scabior demanded, turning his attention to the girl. Caden had been given the book, which was circulated for the sake of familiarizing everyone with the list. Scabior had not taken it from her that morning, as he usually kept it-couldn't lose that, it was their lifeline, in a sense.

"And you, my lovely? What do they call you?" Caden's stomach twisted as she watched him play with her hair, _smell her_, and watch her squirm with disgust.

Merlin, was this how he felt when he realized why she had gone, and that she was with someone? She was a teenager, for hippogriff's sake. She had to remind herself he was a Snatcher, and that was just how things…worked. At the end of it all, she would be the one sharing his bed, not her. She didn't matter, not really…

"Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood." She didn't sound too confident in that, Caden thought. If she were a half-blood, she really wouldn't have anything to worry about.

He took a deep sniff at her hair, closed his eyes and thought for a moment.

"You smell like vanilla, Penelope. I think you're goin' to be my favorite."

"Leave 'er alone!" The ginger boy snapped, fighting against the arms that held him.

Scabior tensed, dropping the lock of hair and setting his jaw as he turned around and looked at him. "'scuse me, you got a problem, ginger?"

"I said, leave 'er alone."

The head Snatcher grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling the boy's head back. "You know, if you're cooperative, you might live." His other fist connected with the boy's jaw, the ring leaving a mark on his cheek.

The two that were free of holding anyone got the cue and began to rough the boy up. A hit to the gut, growlings of names, kicking him. Caden blocked out the sounds of grunts and cries of pain. This was by far the worst of the jobs thus far. They only roughed them up when they refused to give their names, or gave them a hard time, but never…that hard…

"Your boyfriend will get much worse than that, if 'e doesn't learn to be'ave 'imself." Scabior stated as they finally stopped beating him, and one put a foot on the boy, keeping him down.

She flipped through, page by page, scanning for the name. None. There was no Vernon Dudley. No Vernon. No last name Dudley. Those two names didn't even exist in those pages, separated.

"Scab, there's no Vernon Dudley in here." She spoke up, catching his eyes.

"What's that, little Caden?" Sarcasm flowed off his tongue, amplifying his anger. "No Vernon Dudley?" He turned back to the swollen-faced boy. "Says you don't exist. Means you're 'idin' who you are, and if you've got somethin' to 'ide…"

Scabior frowned, and took a good look at the boy's face. Green eyes. Black hair. Nothing special about that. Was that just a wrinkle on his forehead? The skin was stretched, a wrinkle wouldn't make sense…a scar…

Oh, Merlin, the luck! He should have realized it earlier. They had the Chosen One and his two best friends. His eyes grew wide, not believing it. Of all the runaways…

"Change o' plan. We're not takin' this lot to the Ministry…"

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><p><strong>So, yeah classes have started again, and even though my updates were never extremely frequent (once a week, a little longer(?)), I'm going to try and keep ahead of my work so I <em>have the time<em> to finish this. I'm so glad you guys have stuck through this and have enjoyed it so far.**

**The wi-fi also wasn't working at campus, so I had to go from memory-it's a bit improvised with what I could remember happening; I recall Nick Moran saying the scene in the woods was supposed to be darker, and a bit more violent. I tried to reorder it and put some of that in there. I'm not sure if it's correct in some things that _actually_ happen in the movie, but I'm happy with it for now.**

**In response to A Penny Dreadful; I originally never planned to expand on Bane as I did-he was only supposed to be in the beginning and serve as an annoyance to Caden, since he was responsible for selling the only thing she had left (I'd be pretty angry about that myself). So in the first few chapters, his name was fitting, but now…eh…I suppose it still could be, considering Caden's frustration with having more than one man's attention...hmm. But nope, his name's not a foreshadowing tool or anything. **


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm not quite sure about the second half of this. It's been a little while and college has done what it does best along with work, so I may have to go back and revise…**

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><p>Malfoy Manor. If it wasn't the Ministry, it had to be the Manor.<p>

Scabior had taken Harry, gripped him by the sleeve of his jacket. Greyback had grabbed Granger, and another held onto Weasley. The wards around the property wouldn't allow them direct access, after all, they weren't Death Eaters. Apparation to the edge of the property would have to do.

The hedges were tall, casting out whatever light made its way through. She didn't remember it ever being this closed off and isolated, but then again her memories were skewed; a child's perspective, as she had been once or twice for a social gathering with her parents. The night sky, the clouds, the tiny glimmer of stars above, all of it seemed to accentuate the moment. Increase the tension and the dramatic. Maybe that was why the hedges seemed far taller than they really were.

The gate, wrought iron of various lengths and widths, whorls of metal shaped in a delicate fashion, blocked them from advancing further.

It was Bellatrix who greeted them, the most avid of followers out of them all.

Caden could only make out her pale skin, such a contrast against the dark metal. Her lips were caught in a pout; curls fell in her face, the tangles matching the madness that manifested over the years in Azkaban. The snatcher swore that if she ever did end up in Azkaban, she'd rather have the Kiss and be a shell of herself than ever succumb to insanity.

Scabior shoved Potter, or so it seemed to be Potter, up to the gate, pulling back his fringes. The scar, stretched and distorted but very obviously of a not so common shape.

She whispered for her nephew, and Caden could have sworn she heard the teenage girl gasp quietly. Well, it was certainly logical; the Malfoy son attended Hogwarts with Potter and his friends.

Passing through the wards was like walking through a blazing building, the smoke thick and almost chocking. It lasted barely a second, but the tiny span of time was enough to create severe discomfort. Strong magic. It reminded her, and probably everyone else, of who the Dark Lord was, of how strong he had gotten. What they were messing with if this situation went belly-up.

They were led into the Manor, the foyer dark and cold. It was clean, prim and proper; hardly ever used. It was not lived in. It was as if the room served no other purpose but to exist.

A staircase led to the dining room upstairs, the large table shoved against the wall. Lestrange whipped around and grabbed Potter from Scabior, dragging the boy to where her sister and her husband were, their son present as well. She shoved him to the ground, kneeling down and pulling him up by his hair, causing a grunt of pain, his breathing erratic, a manic grin barely visible behind her curly locks.

She looked expectantly at her nephew. "Well?"

Caden couldn't see much; she didn't want to. While others had decided to rifle through Granger's larger-on-the-inside bag of tricks, Greyback had gotten Weasley and Granger was shoved to Scabior. Caden stood on the other side of the lead Snatcher, who was carefully watching the scene in front of them.

"I can't be sure," was the son's reply. Stalling. Or was he truly unable to identify the boy in front of them. In certain circles, there were rumors it was the Malfoy son who was supposed to kill Dumbledore but failed; a deed to redeem his father's failure.

Lucius, with a glass of something in his hand, walked over and gripped the back of the boy's neck. "Draco. Look closely, son," he glanced back at the rag-tag group of Snatchers, showing the obvious state of his damaged pride. "If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord…everything would be forgiven. All would be as it was, you understand?"

Scabior frowned, and Granger was pushed to Greyback as he stepped forward. No way would the Malfoys take the credit when they had run through the forest to catch them. No one would take away the reward when they had actually been tracking of the Golden Trio for a while. They did the leg-work.

"Now we won't be forgettin' who actually caught 'im, I 'ope, Mr. Malfoy." Caden would have laughed at the sight of Scabior with his hands on his hips if he wasn't so angry. Far too serious to crack even a tiny grin.

Lucius let his pride get the best of him. "You dare to talk to me like that in my own house?"

Narcissa, ever the loving and attentive wife-a very kind woman, Caden recalled, loyal to her family-as she should be, hissed her husband's name, halting him in his rant. There was no need to be riled up because of a Snatcher. The class division was clear. She pulled her husband from their son, letting him make the choice.

Bellatrix coaxed her nephew, "Don't be shy, sweetie. Come over." Draco advanced, kneeling in front of the captive as his aunt continued. "Now, if this isn't who we think it is, Draco, and we call him, he'll kill us all." She touched his shoulder briefly. "We need to be absolutely sure."

"What's wrong with his face?" Draco murmured.

"Yes, what _is_ wrong with his face?" Bellatrix echoed him, posing the question to the group at the stairs. To them.

"He came to us like that." Scabior answered, gesturing with one hand in the air as if to say he had no idea. "Somethin' 'e picked up in the forest, I reckon."

"Or ran into a Stinging Jinx," Lestrange murmured. "Was it _you_, dearie?" The witch had stood up, and pointed her wand at Granger. She began to walk over to the other side of the room. "Give me her wand. We'll see what her last spell was."

She pointed at Granger with a long finger, laughing. "Got you."

It ceased as soon as her eyes fell upon what one of them had found in the bag. A sword. Archaic to be certain, swords served no purpose today except as family heirlooms or artifacts. That particular sword was legendary; it was supposed to be at Hogwarts. Only showing itself to those brave enough.

"What is that?" Fear dominated Madam Lestrange's voice.

Caden felt her breath hitch in her throat. She saw Scabior tense up, and Alec cast a glance at the man holding the silver sword.

"Where'd you get that from?" Oh, yes, definite fear.

"It was in 'er bag when we searched 'er. Reckon it's mine now."

She threw a spell at him, catching the sword that came towards her. She whipped around, tossing a spell at Greyback, who crumpled to the floor, letting Weasley and Granger get out of his hold; a snake had formed around the werewolf's neck, chocking him, the creature hissing in his face.

Scabior had grabbed Caden, throwing her behind him. "Are you mad?"

Lestrange diverted her attention to him, flicking her wand and a whip releasing itself, winding around his neck. Fear ran through her, adrenaline rushing through her veins. Bellatrix tugged, sending Scabior spinning in the air and landing on his hip before the motion continued on the floor and he rolled onto his back. The whip found his neck again, the demented woman pulling and then releasing harshly, the whip cracking on his cheek.

He stumbled to his feet, Caden pulling him as he coughed and tried to breath, holding his neck where marks were already beginning to form.

"Go!" She shrieked. "Get out!"

Caden pulled at Scabior, Greyback stumbling, trying to remove the snake from his neck. Apparation was impossible, and they had to retraced their steps through the foyer and out the front door. The grounds weren't much, a few potted plants, shorter hedges, a few benches. Simple elegance, a slight chance from some of the opulence of other Pureblood houses.

Scabior made no attempt to head towards the wards and get away. It was a general consensus that they best get away while they could. Scabior shook his head, attempting to speak.

"No," his voice was harsh, raspy. "We stay. We didn't come all this way to not get _somethin'_ from findin' Potter."

"Scab…" Caden gave him a scared, skeptical look. "This isn't…"

"We stay!" He roared, coughing hard and turning away, walking off from the group.

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><p>They could hear what was going on inside, just barely. Granger's screams. Granger's blood-curdling screams. It sent a shiver down Caden's spine, sent her skin into gooseflesh.<p>

She had waited before approaching him, taking a seat beside him and saying nothing. His neck was raw, still red. The mark on his cheek had barely bled, but it was noticeable against his skin.

There were flashes of light; curses and spells being thrown back and forth. A crash of…glass, a chandelier. They all looked up, and watched the windows, but never made an attempt to dart back inside.

A figure had glanced out the window; a pale face but the rest obscured, hair blending into the background-could only be Bellatrix, then.

They were graced with her presence within a few moments, the calm she displayed not reflected in her eyes. There was madness, anger, hatred. And fear. Definitely fear.

"You lot chose to stay but never thought to consider to come back and help?" She began to walk towards them, her movements staggered and dramatic. "You won't be getting a reward now, if that's what you're after, filthy Snatchers."

Scabior glared at her as he stood up, but said nothing. Caden had followed suit, a small gesture from him telling her to stay behind him.

"How can you get a reward when the ones you captured escaped? Where is the sense in _that_?"

Lestrange's eyes fell upon Caden, and she grinned as she pointed a finger at the only other female present. "You."

"Yes, ma'am?" Play obedient, play dumb.

Bellatrix chuckled, the grin never leaving her face. "Caden Allen. It _is_ Caden, isn't it?" A nod. "Mummy and Daddy would be so _disappointed_ in you. _Snatching_ in order to bounce back from the poverty he left you in…"

"Yes, I suppose that would be correct, Madam Lestrange." Caden had to force herself to hold her tongue.

"Didn't they support Dumbledore, years ago?"

"I don't remember. I was a child then."

"Ooh, I think they did, Cay-Cay. Not…avidly, not part of the Order, but…they supported his cause, in their own way. And here you are…snatching people for the Dark…"

She cast a glance around at the rest of them, at Alec, Greyback and the others. "Your usefulness has ended," she waggled a finger at them. "Leave."

It was a silent understanding that Scabior and Caden were to remain. Not that he would have left her there by herself anyway.

Bellatrix turned her attention to Scabior, who had placed himself between the mad lady and Caden.

"I would have been so revered by the Dark Lord. My brother-in-law's failures forgotten, Draco's mistakes erased…I love the Dark Lord, and would support his ideas and his plans until the end. He _is_ correct, after all. Surely you would understand, Scabior? Having something…some_one_ to care about."

Caden watched him tense up again, realizing her words. Bellatrix laughed, the sound sharp and maniacal.

"Why else would you shove her behind you, as if you could protect her?"

She Stunned the snatcher, who Caden had attempted to catch before he crumpled to the ground. Bellatrix grabbed the younger woman, pulling her aside, and revived Scabior. "You will watch, Snatcher."

She flung Caden, who stumbled and fell on her side onto the gravel-paved path. Her hands had been cut on the stones, nothing severe, but they stung.

That pain was nothing compared to what she had coming, she knew.

"You see, Scabior, you're _here_. That's the _only_ reason any of this is happening. You stayed in hopes of getting _rewarded_. Consider it a reward that I'm letting you leave here alive. Although…I might not say the same for _her_."

"_Crucio!_"

Caden gasped, clenching her teeth as white-hot pain seered through her. As if broken glass had been added to her blood and was coursing through her veins. Knives piercing her everywhere. Burning pain, as if being lit on fire. She refused to scream, she wouldn't, she couldn't. As soon as her head felt like it was splitting in two, her will failed and a strangled cry escaped her lips. Her muscles felt as though they were being ripped from their bones, which in turn felt like they were being shattered over and over.

Bellatrix stopped for a moment, letting her barely catch her breath before she began again. Caden had closed her eyes, unable to look at the man who was making no effort to stop this. She writhed in pain, in agony. Her screams died down and became whimpers, pleas that accompanied tears and sobbing.

No, he was making an effort, she heard his voice over her own screams, pleading for it to stop. He was pained, it had finally hit him what was happening.

It soon stopped, the pain becoming too much. She saw darkness between every blink, and eventually accepted it, choosing peaceful bliss over more pain.

"Last longer than I expected her to." Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, looking at the Snatcher who had gotten up, ignoring the side-effects of being stunned. "You see, that pain you feel, Snatcher, that ache in your chest," she walked towards him, placing a cold hand over his breast, "is exactly how I feel about this failure. You failed to protect her, didn't you, just as my family has now failed the Dark Lord."

Scabior stumbled towards the unconscious woman as Bellatrix made her way back inside, cackling, her anger gone, released on the girl outside.

As he scooped her up, her arms dangling limply, he made his way towards the wards, to head back to camp.

He glanced down and noticed her chest rising and falling, unsteadily, but she was breathing nonetheless.

He had failed to protect her, hadn't he. Left himself open to be stunned, shoved aside. This hadn't had to happen. If he had listened to her…to all of them, she wouldn't be limp in his arms.

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><p>No one said anything as he walked into camp, carrying her into his tent. The bed was unmade, and after he pulled off her boots, her jacket and scarf, her tucked her under the covers. The after-effects would be hell on her; she wouldn't be herself for a few days, a little out of touch with the world.<p>

He didn't want to leave her. To not be there for her when she woke up, when she tried to fall back asleep and faced the dreams that awaited her and comfort her through the fear.

He wouldn't let it happen again. He had led her into this life, this danger. It was his fault. This was not the life for her, the life of a criminal, of a vagabond. She deserved more than what he could offer her. He didn't want her hurt, or worse, dead, because of him. Her debt, the money she owed him, mattered little now.

He wanted the best for her. And he doubted that he would be able to give it.

Scabior pulled up a chair, and sat beside the bed. He had an idea but it was late now. He wanted Caden awake first.


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm terribly sorry for the lack of updates. I am. My life has been school and work. And when I'm not doing those, I'm spending time away from the internet when I can.**

**I have a few projects and papers to finish up, and finals are coming up (doesn't seem terrible this time around), so hopefully I'll be able to get back into the swing of writing soon enough.  
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**I'm hoping this one doesn't seem to OOC. Eh. It's been a while. I feel a bit off in terms of character behavior.  
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><p>She came around in the late hours of the next day. He had drifted off in the chair, extended his legs out and slouched into the thing, knowing his back would protest later but in the present cared not. Drifting never lead to a heavy sleep; his thoughts would jolt him awake.<p>

He would watch her, hope that a facial twitch or a soft groan was her finally coming round. But then she would be still again, be silent, and he would put his weight back into the chair that creaked with every movement.

Every time. He'd hope every time but he always knew she wouldn't wake. Like a child anticipating father coming home and thinking every man passing by was the one they were waiting for.

When she did wake, he watched her eyes stare up, look around without moving her head. They were glazed over for a time, as if she wasn't really aware of anything. She wasn't seeing the canvas over her head but rather whatever was in her mind. The illusion of still being outside the Manor, seeing Bellatrix's face. She slowly turned her head, looking towards him but her eyes never saw him.

If he would touch her, she'd flinch. He knew that. He had enough experience with people who had been under the Cruciatus to know how they'd react.

She fell back asleep again, without even acknowledging him. This time, she tossed and turned, whimpered, and then laid still again.

It was hours later, when he actually fell asleep, neck draped over the back of the chair, legs stretched out and hands clasped over his abdomen that she had actually woken up. She had attempted to get up, her body still drained from the torture. She had fallen over him, startling him and causing him to reach for her so she wouldn't fall to the floor.

She thrashed, fighting him, her throat hoarse from the screaming and coming out in strangled cries. He held tight, letting her wear herself out of whatever little energy she had regained.

"Caden, Caden, pet, stop it. You're safe. It's over. I'm not gonna 'urt you."

She seemed to hear him, and stopped, relaxing enough for him to sit her back down on the bed. She looked up at him, eyes wide and blank and scared. Her mind was still dull, cloudy.

He summoned a cup of water, interacting with her like a wounded animal. She could easily try and lash out again and hurt herself in the process. She wasn't thinking clearly. So he'd approach with caution.

She took the cup and sipped slowly, and she thought of the Muggleborns and runaways they'd caught; hurt, hungry, dehydrated and desperate. She felt as if every bit of energy had been taken from her; their states taking weeks to months at a time, hers a mere few minutes.

She felt as if she was a child again. Helpless. Weak.

And yet her mind was blank. She felt echoes of pain. The aftershocks. Like a bad migraine that finally leaves and yet the imprint of the pain is still there. Caden would move a certain way and she'd feel a strange and ever-so-light tingle of something like pain run down a limb.

She would glance up at him, as if to make sure he was still there. That he wouldn't leave her.

"You 'ungry?"

Why did his voice sound so soft? Gentle?

Caden shook her head, locking eyes with him to enforce her answer. She couldn't eat. Her stomach was still in strange knots, the dull ache coming and going. A constant state of some sort of pain.

He pulled his chair closer, and she watched his movements; he kept everything within her field of vision, as if anticipating her to be startled by something. He was never particularly one to be gentle, but for her, he'd make an exception.

When she had finally decided to drift back off to sleep, he tucked her under the blankets, watching her curl up with them. He was reminded of a child, scared, the only security being the coverings around her.

He had never wanted her to get hurt. Damn it all. This was why he had stopped getting close to people. Azkaban changed him, yes, but somehow, she had snuck her way into his ribcage and stayed there, as if she literally had his heart in her hands. She was hurt and frightened and that hurt him.

Scabior ran his hands down his face, briefly rubbing his eyes.

His plan had no particular…gravity…until this moment. He wanted her safe. And she would not be safe with him. He had failed her, that much was obvious. If he had just given the orders to leave, if they had handed Potter to the Ministry and gotten gold…she would not be in this state.

He got up, half-tempted to kick the chair back and let it clatter to the ground. Yet that would wake her, scare her beyond reason. Sudden noises would do her no good.

Scabior headed to the table he so often planned at, ate at when he wished to be away from the others. The one covered in papers yet again, the paper-holder being a heavy glass bottle, which he hoped would still have some of its contents. He grabbed the bottle by the neck, finding it light but still housing some of the favorable clear liquid. Half-tempted to let the fire run through his veins, Scabior put it back down. He had to be of use to Caden. And he couldn't be if he was intoxicated beyond comprehension.

Instead, he pushed aside the tent flap and found the campfire to be deserted, save the presence of a large bird. Particularly, an owl. Perched on the spigot set-up over the ashes of the firepit, the large creature set its yellow eyes on the intruder to its peace. Attached to its leg was an envelope, the writing on the front a tell-tale sign of just who it was from.

He was unfazed. The news would reach _him _immediately, news of the failure that now besmirched the name of Malfoy. And by proxy, he was attached to the failure-after all, he brought them to the Manor in the first place.

The card inside gave no heading. A message, scrawled in a hasty yet elegant hand gave a demand, not an option. Two initials, large and just as elegant as the message, gave away the sender.

_You will come to Malfoy Manor when I send one of my Death Eaters for you. Failure to comply will result in your death._

_-L.V._

He should have foreseen this. Of course. He was responsible for his group, and as such he would be the one to receive the punishment now.

Tossing a bit of left-overs to the owl, the bird glared at him but took the offering. He headed back into the tent. His blue eyes would dart between the letter and the woman in his bed, asleep but uneasily so. If he wanted her safe, he would have to go. His death would not help her.

He scrawled a note on a scrap piece of paper, dictating what was to be done in his absence for whoever the hell found it. He hardly cared who did.

When the figure in black came for him; a younger, nameless follower he did not recognize, he carefully ran a hand over her head, watching her brows knit together. His lips found her forehead as he heard a soft sound of protest.

He said nothing, following the silent figure out of camp lines. His arm was grabbed roughly and a force tugged at his navel as he was unwillingly disapparated.


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you guys for the reviews; I'm glad to know people are still reading despite the lack of updates.**

**A short update-it's finals week. I'm killing a bit of time before I study for a test I have a little later. ****As with everything, I'm iffy on the characterization at the moment. I hope this works, but as always, revisions are possible.**

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><p>The manor was as he remembered it being-tidy and foreboding on the outside. A stray albino peacock strutted past-more like scurried. With the exception of footsteps, there was silence. Not even a tiny whistle of wind through the dark hedges.<p>

He was led inside, the hand on his arm holding him like a vice of a harpy, and Scabior wished to pull away. But the figure in black was not a harpy or a vicious woman of the night, and he was in no position to defy anything asked of him. He heard moaning, soft at first, the last efforts of dying breaths and tired tongues.

As they ascended the stairway, bodies were strewn across the stone, some bloodier than others. Eyes vacant, staring straight up. Something caught his calf, surprising him more than it should have. A hand, bloody and cold, gripped his lower leg with its last bit of energy before slumping to the floor.

The scene only unraveled from there.

Blood. So much blood. He saw the body of the goblin, tiny and pale, black beady eyes dull and dark.

Voldemort stood in the center of it all, his pet snake slithering through the mass of death. There was a sickening wet sound as she wove her way across the floor where there were pools of blood. And yet, her scales were not dirtied by the action. No doubt there was magic at play there.

"The Snatcher, milord." Scabior was pushed forward, his boot making contact with the crimson liquid that collected in a dip in the floor.

The Death Eater did not wait to be dismissed, practically flying out the room as soon as he let Scabior go.

"Love wha' you've done to the place," Scabior broke the tension, dared to.

"You will stay silent, Snatcher," A pale hand moved to meet the head of the snake, a strange gentleness for a man of such horror, "and speak when I ask you to."

Scabior watched as Voldemort stepped through the mess at his feet, bare and stained with the blood of those beneath him. He wondered if the blood that ran through his veins, if there was any to be found, since Voldemort was so pale, was red just like the blood on his feet.

"You captured Potter and friends, did you not?" He stopped on the edge of the chaos, keeping a distance between Scabior and himself, as if a whole other realm separated them.

"Yes, I did, sir."

"You and who else?"

"My troop. Fenrir Greyback, Alec-somethin'. I don't really know, to be 'onest, sir."

A sick smile crossed non-existent lips. "If you were honest, Scabior, you wouldn't have left out a name you know very well. What was it…Caden?"

"Caden Allen, sir." He was tempted to shift his weight, fidget, something.

"Ah, yes. Bellatrix told me she had given punishment to her, as a way to get through to you for your failure. And you did fail, Snatcher, there's no doubt you have failed me considerably. How is it you thought you would get rewarded when you were told to leave?"

"We were told to leave by Madame Lestrange."

"And yet you didn't. Surely you had noticed something go on up here? Yet you stayed outside."

"I noticed nothin' 'cept the screamin' comin' from that mudblood."

That smile again. It was like he knew he was hiding the truth.

"I was satisfied with Bellatrix's actions. That is, until I realized what leverage I have in my advantage. You have, in your possession, for lack of a better word, a girl you care about very much. She was tortured, yes, but is very much alive. And I would not hesitate to kill her should you fail again, Snatcher."

Bare feet hardy touched the wood floor as Voldemort closed some of the distance between them.

"You will lead an army to the castle when you receive a sign. You will kill anyone who gets in your way of a ground assault. Be it a student or a teacher, I care not…"

A pale hand with long fingers reached out and grabbed him by the scarf, pulling him up to be eye-level. Scabior looked up into cold eyes, knowing nothing less would be acceptable. He shouldn't have tied with it a knot. It had tightened like a noose, the knot pressing into his windpipe as Voldemort held onto the fabric.

"Fail to do so, and I will have no problem finding Miss Allen, where-ever you hide her, and killing her without a second thought."

Scabior was pushed back, his ability to breathe coming back as he stumbled and tried to catch a stance. He coughed, but quickly recovered to see the other…was he a man, could he ever be considered a man, a human…walking away. Bare feet took no precautions against the gore on the hardwood floors, and the snake had found a body to snack on. She was rewarded with a stroking of her head as her master returned to her.

He did not wait to be dismissed. His boots hardly thudded on the floors as he made tracks and left as swiftly as he had been forced to come.


	21. Chapter 21

**...I think it's safe to say this is mostly filler with a splash of plot. I won't bog it down with an author's note up here, so enjoy and review if you'd be so inclined.**

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><p>There was one last order of business to complete that required him to head back into London. His encounter with the Dark Lord had shaken him a bit, to be sure, but it had only solidified the need for his plan. There was little doubt in his mind that he would indeed lead the ground assault. He'd keep his end of whatever deal he had gotten himself into. For Caden's sake.<p>

However, there was always the chance he would not make it out. This was a siege in a war that begun months ago. This would be _the _battle to decide which side would win.

And again, it was for her sake that he was doing what he was. She had long since paid him back. The rewards for some of the runaways had piled up, and rather than pooling her share with his or the rest of the groups, he had set hers aside. Even if he had never gotten emotionally involved, he was going to offer her the ultimatum anyway.

In his first idea, he'd have kept the money and just let her go. Their deal had nothing to do with something on this scale.

Yet, without money, how was she to live? Without someone good to attach her name to, how would she make it through if their side did not win? If she somehow managed to get out of the clutches of Azkaban?

So he had decided he would give her the money and let her go. That was the second amendment. That was before Christmas, prior to acting on his desires for her.

And then Quentin Bane had gotten involved, however briefly. The man clearly cared for her. Knew her on a professional level for some time, and asked her to dinner. Treated her well. Caden deserved that. Especially if Scabior would not be able to give it should he die. The least he could do was to make sure she was taken care of. He had never properly met the man, but a part of Scabior…dared to trust the man. They had a common goal He'd contact him in a few days.

The goblin that accompanied him to one of his vaults did not question him as he withdrew the contents entirely. Weighed down by the gold, Scabior headed back into London's bustling streets and apparated back to camp.

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><p>He walked into the tent, without a word to the others, and charmed the flaps shut and sound-proofed the canvas shelter. Caden was curled up in bed, her hair matted and clothes unchanged. She was nursing a hot cup of tea.<p>

"And where'd you go?" Her voice sounded hollow…so unlike her. She wasn't angry. Fear laced her words, her wide eyes casting a gaze onto him. "I woke up and you weren't here. Alec said you left a while back with a stranger and…"

Dear Merlin, her eyes…so wide and child-like. So full of fear of so many things and yet so hollow all the same.

"I was summoned, love." He kept his voice even as he removed his coat, careful to not disturb the bag of gold in the pocket. "The, uh, Dark Lord wanted a word."

He watched as her hands gripped the mug tighter, her knuckles white in the glow of the lantern-light in the tent. She just stared at him with those eyes. It was unnerving. How was it he was a snatcher, but one set of eyes could set him on edge? Perhaps it was because he knew her eyes should not look like that, not dull and fearful. Full of life, other emotions seeping through. Or perhaps his fear regarding her was reflecting on her already strange state and his mind was doing what it wanted.

"'e only wanted to speak to me, Caden." He added, walking towards the bed to sit on the edge to kick his boots off.

She wanted to ask, wanted the words to come off of her lips but they wouldn't. Like lead in her diaphragm, they sat there, her curiosity eating her despite being scared. She watched as he walked to the other side of the bed, felt the weight-shift of him sitting on the other side. He flicked his wand absently, but she he turned to set down her mug, in case she broke it. Didn't feel like doing that, despite the simple fixes it would take.

"Your 'air's a mess. C'mere." A gentle command, and she hesitated, afraid that his fingers on her skin would feel like burning needles, sharp knives cutting her whenever they made contact. "I ain't gonna 'urt you, you know that."

Caden slowly turned so that her back faced him, her eyes meeting the rest of the tent. She was vaguely aware the ends of her hair were slowly being untangled, careful not to snag knots too hard.

"Can't 'ave you lookin' like me. Don't suit you." He murmured.

It was a while before her hair resembled a little something like it used to. It was clean, meaning it was likely Alec had already either gotten her to bathe or there were spells involved. Considering she was coherent and moving, he thought it likely she had done it herself with someone else's help.

"Scabior…" She heard the brush being set down, and she turned to look at him again. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothin' for you to worry about righ' now, Caden."

"I want to know."

He could have sworn he had seen a flicker of something in her eyes. A spark that was breaking through the shell of post-Cruciatus trauma. He watched her hand hesitate, pulling back an inch for every three it went forward, her fingers finding his stubbled cheek. She had nearly pulled away again but must have realized there was no seering pain from the contact, she was absolutely fine.

"I want to know." She whispered, her other hand clutching his waistcoat, afraid to let go now. Afraid that if she let go, he'd disappear again.

"You will." His lips brushed her brow, so lightly she nearly didn't feel anything. "Jus' not now."

She reluctantly pulled away, releasing her hold on his clothing and immediately missing the warmth of his cheek against her palm.

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><p><strong>I was going to include a scene between Bane and Scabior, but instead I mentioned the man and brushed it off. It was going to be a part of Scabior's plan, basically making sure Caden would be set in terms of money and then having someone to fall back on in case Harry did win (and we all know how that goes, and this isn't an AU).<br>**

**But yeah...-shrug- A short update.  
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	22. Chapter 22

…**I know it's a bit dead, I've been painfully aware of this for a while. The fact that I'm hidden behind a filter doesn't exactly help. But I'm determined to finish this one, and I want to thank anyone who's been reading, and reviewing lately. It makes my day to know that there are still people reading this.**

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><p>The letter arrived by the same owl that had given him the first one some days ago. It was early in the morning, when he was sitting by the fire, unable to sleep.<p>

Caden's fits had quieted down, and she began sleeping soundly again. Although she was still not entirely herself; he got the feeling she never would be. Some of the men had taken it upon themselves to start snatching again, even though they never bothered to move location.

A sense of normalcy had returned but there was a gloom overhead that no one could pinpoint. Doubt was creeping in. He could see it in some faces, hear it in their voices.

Scabior's eyes read the parchment again and again, as if expecting more than the single sentence and two initials that were written.

_The eve of May 2__nd__ – L.V._

He had two days to gather however many Snatchers were around and get them to the castle. The ones stationed in Hogsmeade and the grounds would be the easiest, of course. It was getting the word out to those not in the immediate London area, those like his men who chose the woods.

Scabior got up, and went to wake Alec, nudging him with his boot. The sleeping man rolled over, wand at the ready and eyes laden with sleep. He lowered his wand a little when he realized it was his leader he was pointing it at. "What, boss?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Get 'vryone up. 'avin' a meetin'." Scabior replied. "Or rather, gather anyone still 'ere at all, whoever ain't left to go 'untin'."

He entered his own tent, gathering whatever important papers he deemed worthy and relevant. There weren't many; a newspaper, a few scraps with contacts on them. This would be like working blind, like the bloody scarf hunt all over again. The thrill was gone though. He could not call this a hunt, more like a mass collection of a rag-tag band of…soldiers.

He never considered himself a soldier for the Dark Lord. They weren't, none of them were. They were opportunists, a necessity that came with the cause.

Expendable.

Every last snatcher was expendable; they would always be able to find others who would hunt the Muggleborns and the blood-traitors. Hell, they could always find a way to turn blood-traitors and Muggleborns into the bounty hunters, blackmail them. The Dark Lord would find another way to make up for the lost section of the regime. After all, a huge chunk of the Snatchers were criminals or werewolves or whatever other monsters existed. Many were pure- or half-bloods; would _he_ waste the very thing he considered to be the best simply because they were criminals?

His head began to ache. Expendable. In the end, the lower ranks always meant nothing. Even within the caste of half- and pure-blood, the classes mattered. Snatchers were the lowest and thereby easy to replace.

Fucking politics.

Scabior looked to where Caden should have been; it was very early, so he was surprised she was not still asleep. Not in the loo, decidedly either; as the small section was vacant. He frowned in confusion. How had he not noticed she was gone?

He rationalized that she would not have gone far in the first place and that she'd be back soon anyway.

Within ten minutes, he had most of his men, save Greyback and another, around the blackened fire pit. They had grabbed whatever they could to eat, and the kettle was making its way around their hodge-podge circle.

"Listen, lads, we've got a bit o' a problem." He started. "You see, the Dark Lord has decided on an assault on the school. But 'e don't 'ave enough Death Eaters to get the job done. Considerin' our little fuck-up a' the Manor, we ain't exactly on the best terms wit' 'im a' the moment. Bein' leader, I got the brunt of those consequences an' I'm the one in charge o' gatherin' whoever the bloody 'ell ain't dead or run away to lead a ground assault…"

Scabior looked around, trying to read reactions. No one said a thing, barely any change in facial expression. A few nods here or there. He continued.

"Wha' I need you lot to do is to start 'eadin' out and spreadin' the word. Be careful about it, o' course, but start tellin' people. Alec, I want you to 'ead to the Ministry an' talk to some of the snatchers that 'ang 'bout there, 'specially the ones who lead. But if there's anyone who wants out, speak now."

He was met with silence. He was sending men to their deaths. No one was objecting, why, dear Merlin, why? Was death preferable to potentially facing Azkaban again (he couldn't blame them there, to be certain). Perhaps the chances of winning against a bunch of kids and whoever was left of the Order were greater than the chances of losing in some minds.

"Alright then. Go an' get dressed. I'll copy down the information, and for fuck's sake don't lose it."

Each of the men got a slip of paper with the date and a time to meet in the Forbidden Forest, charmed to look blank to anyone but them. They started to head out of the protection zone and apparate away, leaving Scabior in the empty campsite. He wouldn't go back to London without having seen Caden; he'd take her with him, to be safe.

She returned barely a few minutes after everyone else had left. Clean jeans, boots, a three-quarters sleeve button up shirt. The circles under her eyes were gone, her hair tied back in a pony-tail. She was carrying a sweater, clearly not expecting it to be as warm it was.

"Where is everyone?" She sat down beside him, their thighs touching. She was curious, not suspicious.

"I sent them to go an' take care of stuff." He replied. "Where'd you go?"

"For a walk," Caden tapped her wand on a mug, cleaning it and then filled it with water. "It helps."

He could relate.

"Caden…pet, I…" The words had come so much easier around the others, why was there this weight on his chest now…

She looked at him, her brown eyes patient but showing a glimpse of concern. "What is it?"

"The Dark Lord's planning an attack on the school. I was…forcibly taken to see him after the incident. I'm to lead whatever Snatchers are left in a ground attack; a way of redemption, I s'pose. If I don't…he'll kill you."

She blinked. Caden thought she finally left the world of dreams behind. The nightmares were gone. Her hallucinations had stopped, her mind had finally broken the fog. What was this?

"I don't…"

"'ear me out, just for a moment, yeah?"

Her lips were pressed together; the concept was easy to understand, actually. It was extremely obvious why Voldemort wanted Scabior to do it; the leader of the group who let Potter get away. And Bellatrix had figured out that Caden was important to the Snatcher.

"I made arrangements a while back. I was goin; to simply let you go an' keep whatever your shares amounted to once things started gettin' messy between Potter an' the Dark Lord. An' then obviously things 'appened and I decided I'd give you the money an' let you go. You need money to survive and you ain't got any. Then o' course there's the matter of you then bein' a criminal if Potter wins and…Azkaban's a horrible place, Caden. I can't rest easy knowin' that looms in your future. It's different for me, but I can't fathom you rottin' with a Dementor at your cell door, love."

She was silent, looking at him, waiting. He had finally gotten her out of the stupor and the screams and the crying and he'd have to push her away if this was going to work.

"I might not make it back, Caden. An' I don' want you there. It'll be dangerous an' bloody an' it's not…you ain't 'ad to take a life. That's a burden on your soul, a 'eavy one. I want you to take the money an' go 'ome. I can't give you a steady life; there's no version of this where somethin' goes as I want it to. It's better if you jus' go and forget this 'appened…"

He watched her eyes narrow, watched the spark come back behind her brown eyes. He heard the sound of her hand connecting with his cheek, harder than he remember her being able to hit, and feeling the sting right after. He was stunned, looking at her with wide eyes; not as a challenge, but as a question. Her palm connected again, and he figured it was for good measure.

"Are you fucking serious?" Her tone was even, but there was an edge to it. "Forget this happened? In case you haven't noticed, I don't have anything to go back to but an empty house. Something I wouldn't have if it wasn't for you and your offer. So, no, I'm not going to walk away and forget any of this happened."

Scabior opened his jaw, exercising the muscle and making sure everything felt normal. "So there's no chance I can ask you to at least stay behind?"

"No."

He nodded, letting out a breath through his nose. "Fine. You're so adamant on coming, I want you to promise me that you'll stick to my side, and that if I tell you to, if I feel that it's necessary, you'll apparate away. Promise?"

Caden nodded, her thumb running over the cheek that was beginning to bear signs of her handprint.

"Promise."


	23. Chapter 23

**And here we have the beginning of the Battle. Originally, this was supposed to be one long chapter; I wrote it all together and went back thinking that too much was going on to be in one chapter.  
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**So, you guys get two updates. Enjoy.**

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><p>They had gathered in the Forbidden Forest, atop a hill overlooking the school. Lights in windows glowed in the distance, the castle a stunning contrast against the forests of Scotland. The Dementors could be made out, barely; moving so eerily as if the night itself had fingers, playing with the wind. But there was no chilling fog, not tonight.<p>

Which explained why they were able to see the castle so easily. Yet even in the dark, it looked different. As if all of the liveliness had been sucked out of it.

Caden had spent her first year of schooling learning the sides, and there was a collective fear among everyone. It was as if a breath had been held as soon as she stepped onto the train that year. She wouldn't forget the mornings that brought bad news, letters bearing the words no one wanted to think about.

Hogwarts had not been in this state; no Death-Eater headmaster, no tortures, no rigid lines to stand in. She could not fathom what hell the students, mere children, had been in.

Children caught between warring adults differing in ideals. Why? To gather enough in hopes of brain-washing the next generation? Nip the problem in the bud, so to speak? Was that it? She didn't understand, and looking around her, she realized she might not be the only one with a moral crisis in her head.

Words caught her ears once from a Muggleborn they had captured; he spoke of a man named Hitler to the others they had captured. Compared Snatchers to the secret police, Muggleborns to millions of Jews and handicapped and gypsies and homosexuals and criminals that were persecuted under Nazi rule.

Many of the other Snatchers had shrugged their shoulders and let him ramble. They had a vague understanding of who Hitler was, but that was before their time. She had glanced at Scabior that night, and got the feeling he understood more than he let on. One thorough search of the captives' bags lead to a Muggle history textbook and scribbled margin notes.

Caden scoffed at the idea of Voldemort being compared to a mere Muggle as she read through the thing, but understood the obvious parallel. There were mentions of Grindlewald as well in the Muggleborn's cramped notes.

History had a tendency to repeat itself. Which was why they were standing here, waiting for the signal. Another war happened again because that was what humans did. Not just Muggles, not just Wizards, but human beings.

She stepped away from the edge of the hill and back down into the hollow where they had gathered. Tents and fires had been built, and Caden easily found Scabior, the single figure on a tree stump organizing things as best as they could be.

Many were having the leadership issue. It was decided that, for obvious reasons of getting the order from the Dark Lord himself, Scabior was to be the leader. But those who had been heads of their own groups were still in charge of them; any order from Scabior just superseded their orders. Others had tried fighting this, and being the Snatchers they were, simply killed them for making things complicated.

Around him was a group of the other troupe leaders, discussing various things. There were very few women here. That she was one of the more pretty ones, and a little younger, was overlooked by very few. Some had threatened her, attempted to corner her, but she'd dart from under arms, make her fist connect hard to noses and jaws and skulls. Scabior had made it obvious by threatening a few of them himself that she was not to be touched.

She watched as another note had found its way to him, and there was a collective pause in all activity.

"'e's given them an 'our to 'and ov'r Potter. An' it's no secret they won', so tha's an 'our to strengthen defenses on their end." Scabior announced.

Several groaned and shouted. There was a hum of activity now, everyone gathering from their own troupes to hear what was to be heard. Scabior hopped off of the stump, tossing the piece of paper aside as it set itself on fire.

They made their way back to the tent, a mere turn and a few paces away from where they were. She stood in the middle, watching him check through useless papers; he was looking for something, but did not want to speak it aloud to summon it.

"Hypothetically, if they do, would that mean we're here for nothing?" Caden pulled the sleeves of her light pea coat over her hands, a chilly May evening in a while. "Not that I think we're soldiers to begin with, but…"

"Nah. Attackin' would send a message to 'vryone in Britain. It would be the cherry on top if 'e got Potter an' destroyed the one place of 'ope."

"So, what else have we got? Giants, acromantulas, a werewolf or a dozen…"

"Greyback didn' shut 'is gob 'bout 'ow 'appy 'e is to get so many victims. Now where…"

Scabior sighed and summoned what he was looking for; a key and a letter. The key, she recognized, was a vault key from Gringotts, tied onto a string. He walked over to her, slung the key around her neck, tucked the letter into the inside pocket of her jacket, and spelled it shut.

"For safe-keeping," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

She was beginning to realize why he didn't want her to come, why he wanted to send her to London. She knew his motives, and could understand them, but she would not stand passively by and let someone else walk out of her life. This was something she had to see through to the end, not just by contact, but because she was emotionally tied to it.

And it was a well-known thing that anything involving emotions is a good way to get screwed over.

She pressed herself to him, hugging him, tight, so tight. If this was the last time she'd see him, she wanted to remember what he smelt like, what he felt like, how he held her to him.

It had been cut short, as Alec's voice cut through the chatter from outside (there had been little time to cast anything but defensive spells on the site). "Scab, you might want to come see this." He stepped inside, looking slightly panicked.

Scabior frowned but followed the other man, Caden trailing behind. They saw the glow of obvious spells hitting the air, but it wasn't until they reached the top of the hollow that the full picture came into view. There was a steady stream of spells from what was likely to be several people, erupting in the night sky. _What particular _spells were being used wasn't obvious, but this did not bode well. Dementors were pushed back as the spells melded together and began forming a dome, a very faint sizzle of something like electricity coming from it.

There was a sound that was the unmistakable crack of thunder as the barrier was finished and faded from view, now an invisible defense.

"Cromwell darted down earlier when we saw moving figures; he says they animated the statues as a second defense." Alec pointed to the zig-zag path lit by torches that connected two courtyards as an example; large shadows could be barely made out.

"The giants can 'ave some fun wit' 'em, then. There don' seem to be any where we're enterin'." Scabior eyed the horizon, looking for something. "For now, we gather an' wait."

There were movements below at the bridge, two figures barely visible in the night. One was down below, in the beams; there were lights there, unnecessarily. But the bridge was protected by the barrier. They must have been foreseeing that their enchantments would not last.

It did not take terribly long until the bombardment began.

There was a glow from behind the castle, and Caden would have thought it pretty, perhaps even like a meteor shower, if she did not know the cause of it. Thousands of spells cast all at once. There was a deafening silence as the enchantments arched in the air, rising, rising, and then falling. The initial impact shook the ground they stood upon, a steady beat of magic on magic.

There didn't seem to be much of a difference, no cracks, no weaknesses penetrated.

Didn't stop them.

Scabior signaled and they ran. The werewolves among them were riled up, letting out terrifying howls or something like a bark. The men shouted and yelled, a sea of rag-tag miscreants rushing for a space that was lucky to fit four people side by side through it.

She did her best to keep up, knowing that if she didn't, she'd be trampled. The flanks came forward, almost in attempt to surround the entrance, where there was a single figure, a boy.

The rush must have gotten to some of them, forgetting about the barrier. Perhaps they figured they would merely bounce off of it, like walking into a glass door. Scabior, realizing that wasn't likely to be the case, skidded to a halt, spread his arms out to stop those behind him. She ran into his arm, like a tree branch to the diaphragm. She was winded on accident, but looked up in time to see three or so morons stop too late.

The barrier tore them to shreds. She watched as their bodies disintegrated in glowing pieces, at first like crushed glass and then into particles so tiny it was as if nothing was left.

That had to have been painful.

The kid in the archway flinched as the scene unfolded, but didn't look too scared.

Scabior stood in the front, the apex of the crowd. The others were sobered into realizing that barrier was immediate death. Those inside the castle had been more careful than originally thought.

He had kept his arms spread in warning to anyone who could see from behind; stay back. He was panting, and it would be a lie to say he wasn't a tad disturbed by having seen three men turn to nothing. Yet he was resilient, and thus was not going to turn his back just because of a set-back.

She glanced up at him, their eyes meeting. She nodded, still catching her breath; she was fine and she wouldn't be sent away.

There was a hum of murmuring amongst them, several swearwords breaking out. The boy on the bridge, having seen that, for now, the enchantments were impenetrable, dared to be a little confident.

"Yeah?" The boy shouted, raising his arms in a challenge. "You and whose army?"

He was kidding, right?

Scabior had his head raised up, still catching his breath from the run. The look on his face, as Caden looked at him again, said it all.

Challenge accepted.

They watched and they waited. If the Dark Lord was on the other side, his patience should have been growing thin with the lack of progress.

There was a sudden burst of blue light, strong and bright and angry. A deep rumble began as the barrier was eaten away. It peeled and flaked as what appeared to be fire consumed the force-field. Everything now engulfed in an orange, hellish glow.

Caden found the thought uneasy and yet so fitting. A man of destruction, likely overlooking the fire and smoke and chaos. His territory for the taking now.

Bits of fire began to rain down as gravity took its toll. She furled her brow in thought, watched as what appeared to be a piece of burned parchment floated down. Scabior caught it on the tip of his wand for a moment, looking at it before casting it to the side.

The paling was gone. Had to have been. Why would the boy be looking so…no he wasn't entirely frightened. Perhaps scared he would not make it across, but there was a glint of confidence there.

Scabior skeptically reached out a leg, taking a step and testing the ground that was once untouchable. His leather boots squeaked in the horridly loud silence, and then there was a sound of crunching leaves and sticks. No bright light, no barrier, nothing stopping them from going forward.

The man smirked, and Caden caught a low chuckle. That challenge still stood, but now it was passed to the Hogwarts boy in the cardigan and blue shirt. The challenge they had given every single runaway and Muggleborn and blood-traitor they chased.

_Run._


	24. Chapter 24

**I'll get an epilogue up soon. Reviews are welcomed.**

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><p>Scabior let out what sounded like a war-cry, and they all dashed forward, clogging the entrance of the bridge. He had grabbed her arm for a moment, making sure she was at least behind him. Boots thudded on heavily-trafficked wood, a deafening roar of leather soles and heavy feet.<p>

There were flashes of light, bangs of something just audible over the shouting.

_Of course. _Caden thought. _Get rid of the bridge. _

That was the second precaution. If there was no way to cross, one would need a broom or be an animagus to get across since Apparation might not have been reliable.

Scabior sent a spell flying at the boy, and missed, just barely. She could feel the wood start to give, sway. But there was no big explosion, not yet.

The boy sent a spell behind him, hitting something, likely a detonator on the side. It whizzed and sent the spell to the other detonators below on the structure.

It started behind them, the loud booms and crashes. It grew louder and louder as it neared them, and it didn't escape her thoughts that many had already fallen; too many people to cross and cram in at once.

Scabior glanced back, and grabbed Caden's wrist. She felt like she was being dragged along but kept up as best as she could. Nearly there, they were nearly across, she could see the other opening.

The ground fell from beneath them in the next explosion, and they were caught in a whirlwind of splintered wood and other bodies. She felt arms around her, a body against hers. Her wand was gone, where, when had she lost it? She wrapped her arms around him, under his shoulders, the way she did those nights he was above her. They stayed straight, feet tight together.

It happened too quickly. They fell into the river, cold for the month of May. They were followed by the debris, the splashing of wood and bodies. The current was not as powerful as it would have been two months ago. But it was strong enough to tear them apart, tossing them in separate directions.

Her legs were screaming as she tried to kick, propel herself up to the surface. Support beams had began to crash down into the water, creating bubbles and tossing her this way and that. Where was Scabior, her wand…

Air. Fuck everything, she needed air.

She finally reached the surface, coughing harshly as a wave from falling debris hit her, throwing water down her throat again. It hurt to tread water; she needed to get out of the river.

As she finally found purchase, silt and rocks beneath her feet, she was sure her ankles were broken at the very least; she gave up trying to stand and crumpled back down, shoving herself forward with her arms. When she found a small patch of something like a shore, she was half-tempted to just collapse and stay that way.

No. She'd made it this far.

There was little she could see. Her only source of light came from a few pieces of wood, alit from the blast. In the orange glow, she could make out outlines of bodies. Some floating, clearly dead. Others struggled trying to swim, trying to grab a piece of anything to float on.

She caught sight of a body draped over a flat piece of wood. The pants were unmistakably his; a darker shade of plaid from the water, but plaid nonetheless.

Everything hurt as she somehow managed to make her way back to where he was. She didn't have far out to go, grabbing his wand from his clenched fist and enchanting him to levitate to the poor excuse for a shoreline.

He landed uneasily as she lost concentration and felt her ankles give again. It hurt, not worse than the Cruciatus, but pretty close. She heard him groan as she flopped down beside him, turning him over onto his back and doing her best to prop him up against a nearby rock.

"Scab? Scab, can you hear me?"

She was cradling his head and felt him faintly nod. She took back one hand in order to grab at the wand she had placed beside her, and saw it was wet with more than just water. Her other hand felt around, finding a large gash under his tangles of hair. His eyes opened, an action that seemed to be so hard.

Caden dared to look for any clearly visible injuries. His legs were severely crooked, the left shin and right thigh going in directions they shouldn't, obviously broken. His breathing was irregular, as if taking too deep a breath was far too painful to do.

She could heal very little things. This was beyond her, and if she didn't hurry…

"Scab?"

"Got tossed against some rocks. Nothin' bad, love." He left out a weak breath that might have been a laugh, and forced his lips to quirk up as he looked at her.

He must have understood her silence, her sad eyes, the eyes he never wanted to see hold anything negative (except a little anger sometimes, she was adorable angry). She knew there were very few options left. No apparation; even if it were possible, he was too weak. She couldn't heal large injuries.

"There's two options for me, Cay. I can die 'ere or I can die at the 'ands of Dementors. Personally, I'd rather be 'ere."

There was a pause. "You never sent me away."

"I was gonna, once we got 'cross." He coughed, a wet and disgusting sound, and she didn't miss the dark stain at the corner of his mouth. So he had potentially pierced a lung then, or was bleeding internally in another fashion.

She put down his wand again, and took his hand in both of hers.

They could hear the sounds of battle above them, giants roaring and humans screaming. There was more fire and smoke.

"I don' want you to 'old yourself back, you 'ear? Find another bloke, an' be 'appy."

Caden nodded, finding it unable in herself to smile. She kissed him, his lips cold but willing to oblige her. She tasted the coppery tang of blood briefly before pulling away.

She stayed until she could no longer hear his uneasy breaths.


	25. Epilogue

She had still been in a daze when she stumbled through her front door, a mask of indifference on her face. She had walked back to London, using Muggle transportation when she could afford it.

She didn't care how long it took. She figured there was something more in the journey than the destination.

Caden saw the people coming together and welcoming in those who were finally able to come home. Others were sliding comforting arms around one another as they heard the inevitable had happened too soon.

She would look at them in silence, turn around and start walking again.

A part of her kept repeating a mental mantra of stupid things.

_He wouldn't want you to cry over him. C'mon, you're stronger than that. You struggled for years to keep yourself above water and now you're going to sink because of a single man's death? Was that all it took? Get yourself together._

The silence of the house was only aiding in the soul-crushing realization that she had come back alone. She _knew, _of course, knew all along he wasn't there with her.

But…it was only now, as she closed the door and looked at the very empty house, that it hit her. Now that she was out of sight from anyone, away from the world for a moment, she felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

Caden couldn't breathe, falling against the door behind her and letting the tears fall. They were followed by sobs, an occasional short shriek that hurt her throat.

It wasn't fair.

He was a good man. Or he had the potential to be. He hadn't been like Jonathan; he hadn't tried to woo her, and she had no money to give immediately (although that held her to him, their deal). She was nothing when she met him; her name meant nothing, her money was gone. She was a woman in need of a way out; desperate, but not enough to do anything stupidly rash.

He should have come back with her.

The wand she clenched in her hand was his.

All that she had from him was a wand, a key, some papers, and memories of campfires and tents and running.

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><p>Things were slow at first. The processes of rebuilding the castle, fixing the Ministry, and capturing those on the run had begun almost immediately after Potter won. It was months before Aurors had come knocking, questioning her.<p>

She had waited to go to the vault Scabior had left her. She should have known that was a dumb move; no one would have noticed in the mess right after the battle. But having waited three months, they now knew she was alive. Goblins had upped the security, Aurors were stationed all over.

Only a matter of time, really.

She was alive. Her name signed on a contract between her and the puppet Ministry, hiring her as a Snatcher. A thief, a kidnapper, a potential murderer. A war criminal, to boot.

In her defense, she laid out the problem she had found herself in the previous year; too broke from a stealing ex-husband to pay off the house in her name. She was desperate, yes, but she did it out of necessity. She didn't enjoy it, and would never dream of doing it again for pleasure. They questioned her employment prior to her house being in the midst of short-sale; why she hadn't bothered to at least try and find a job.

She said she did, but she felt the stigma of old-fashioned society; people looked at her with pity, a woman from a fairly well-off family, her husband taking her money and dashing off. Skeptical eyebrows were raised at that, considering that, from a logical standpoint, a job mattered more than societal standards.

Her documents matched up; previous bank statements, her mortgage contract. Bane had come in, to testify that the documents were true and to act as a character witness. He explained that she had made good on payments until a year prior to signing her Snatching contract. The small change she had made with the Improper Use of Magic department had finally run out and she begun to sell her belongings to make payments. With exceptions on not leaving when the house was being shown, she was a good client and well-to-do citizen of Wizarding Britain.

With Kingsley as Minister, they were willing to give everyone a chance and hear the story. No fear. No more shoving innocent people away in Azkaban. They needed the room for the actual criminals.

The voting had been close; three votes swayed the verdict into clearing away her charges and her name.

She had released a breath she didn't know she was holding, her shoulders softening from the lifting of a heavy weight on them. Caden had looked around to find everyone getting up and leaving, Bane included. She caught a glimpse of his figure walking away, towards the lifts.

She'd thank him, properly. Without a crowd of people around.

For now, she headed to the Atrium and the fireplaces. The monument that once claimed "Magic is Might," displaying Muggles and Muggleborns crushed under the weight of the saying, was gone. Destroyed. It was a terrible reminder that was not necessary and, thus, was obliterated to pieces.

Instead, there was a black, glossy stone cube, carved with the names of every individual, from both sides (the exceptions being the inner circle of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself), who died. Alphabetical order by last name, the timeline from the disappearances two years before the War. It was tall enough to have room for every name but not so high as to obscure the list. The stone itself was polished to high gloss, reflecting like a mirror. Charmed with a silencing spell, those who stepped into the boundaries found the hustle and bustle of the open area gone, entirely. Silence, absolute silence amongst a busy lobby.

It was an eerie experience when she had first stepped close. Everyone kept walking, talking, going on with their lives just beyond an invisible line. She could see a blurry of movement behind her as she stared at herself and a name.

Her foot crossed the barrier and every sound around her dissolved. It was not difficult to locate _A. Scabior_. Her fingers found the letters, carved in all uppercase symbols, easy to read. Her own reflection stared back at her, a woman she sometimes barely recognized. Changed, because of the man whose name she stared at. She looked down, closed her eyes for a moment and remembered his face, his scent, his voice. Her index finger tapped the stone twice, remembering his words to her. Eyes locked with her own reflection again, she nodded to herself.

She stepped out of the boundaries and headed towards the fireplaces.

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><p><strong><strong><strong>This story took me a lot longer than I wanted it to, due to a lot of real life priorities. I was determined to finish it, even though this section of the fandom's a bit dry. I planned to follow the canon from the beginning; I wanted to do something different since I've already written another story in which he survived. <strong>****

****I've said it how many times, but I'll say it again: thank you to every single one of you for reviewing. I'm very glad you stuck it out and enjoyed the story. Thank you for sticking through to the end.  
><strong>**

**The monument here is based off the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C. We studied it as part of a section in my art history class; I've never been to D.C., and at some point in my life, I most certainly want to. The idea of a memorial to be included came about, and then I remembered that particular one and drew from there.**

**The Vietnam Veterans Memorial is a V-shaped wall below ground level; done so that, when you enter, the sound from the city is blocked out. The wall is polished black granite, carved with the names of soldiers who died. When you look at it, you see yourself reflected back amongst the names. **


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